


Loving Ivy

by cats_cradle



Series: Oakenshield Securities [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Drama, Dwalin is bounty hunter, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Modern Era, Oakenshield Securities, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cats_cradle/pseuds/cats_cradle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin knew she was trouble, but she was the kind of trouble he wanted to get in to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Modern Setting AU. The series is called Oakenshield Securities.

**Loving Ivy**

**Chapter One**

She was trouble! He'd noticed that the moment she walked into the bar. Hot as hell, but smelling of the sweetest trouble he could get into.

She didn't look his way, eyeballing the pool hustlers, the frat boys, the security.

Only when she'd scoped the place, staring longer at exits, noting where the bathrooms were and the queues outside, the phones stuck to the wall down a side passage, did her glance settle on him.

Shit, Dwalin thought. The lady wasn't just trouble. She was in trouble.

He knew that look on her face. She needed to get out, break the monotony, relax. But, that instinct of her's was playing louder than the crappy jukebox.

When he met her eyes, he didn't move, didn't react. He let her assess him, while he returned the favour. She was tall in her heels, easily hitting six feet, a toned body, like she worked at it, but not angular, there were no straight lines only tantalising curves. Likely ate right, probably didn't drink all that much, so this was an anomaly for her.

Like he thought, breaking the monotony.

She glanced towards the bar, moving steadily, but keeping out the way. She didn't meet anyone else's eyes. Just sat at the bar in her tight jeans, spiked-heel boots and her overlarge T-shirt slipping off one curvy shoulder. She had that healthy tan, so she liked the outside. Probably got it jogging, or doing yoga in the park.

A hand went to her long hair, gifted with a slight curl and the bar lights teased out her red flecks amongst the brown. She placed her order, a bottle of bud.

One hand ran down the bottle, wiping away the droplets, she wiped it on a napkin, took a swig and glanced back around the bar.

She was trying to relax, but those instincts of her's were pounding. Dwalin grabbed his beer, took a swallow, grabbed his leather jacket and made his way over.

He was a sucker for a damsel, especially one that was trying hard to hide her distress. In doing that, she'd piqued his curiosity, and damn if he wasn't gonna find out what the lady was running from.

He slid onto the stool next to her, she stiffened. He knew right now she was glancing sideways, checking him out. Though not in the way he'd like her to.

Her body unfroze, she'd figured he wasn't a threat, but she didn't hold her bottle like she was gonna drink it, more like she was readying it to smash in his face.

"If you're gonna hit me, aim for the nose."

Her head turned, flinging that long hair over her far shoulder, eyes scrutinising him, running over him as she tried to figure him out.

He slid his glass to the bartender, pointing at the beer on tap.

"Go for the nose, you may not break it, but my eyes'll tear up, and I won't be able to see all that well."

She cocked her head, "Are you serious?"

He gave her that ol' devil's grin of his, pure Texas gold his Mamma called it.

She picked at the label on her bottle, flicking her eyes down, checking him out. He raised one brow in interest. Well, maybe this night wouldn't be a waste after all.

"Why?"

It was his turn to cock his head, "Not sure what you're asking?"

"Why would you tell me that," she was shouting a little over the music. Those dark eyes of her narrowed by the heavy frown. That wasn't a good look for her.

He could hear Thorin's voice inside his head, warning him to steer clear, and maybe he should heed his best friend's advice. He hadn't made many good choices with women.

This one, though. Yeah, she was in a biker bar, not the best one around here either, but this wasn't her local.

There were a couple of biker bunnies near the pool table, dressed in leather jeans and tank tops, their faces ravaged by too much time spent riding pillion, the wind blitzing their faces. They had personalities more suited to piranhas, and could likely outdrink every person in the bar.

The lady beside him, she had a toughness to her. It was a different kind of tough, though. Like, if he were careful, if he handled her right, she'd let him in.

Sipping his beer, slapping his lips at the crisp taste, he turned bodily towards her, keeping relaxed, no sudden movements that'd earn him a beer bottle to the face.

"You looked like you could use the advice." He shrugged at her incredulous look.

"Right, because you're what, the patron saint of single ladies in a bar?"

"You know, I don't hand out free advice often. I get paid a lot of money for advice like that."

Her fingers stopped clenching the bottle, and he succeeded in making that frown go away.

"What do you do?"

He smirked, "It's funny you should ask."

She had a cute smile, the brackets around her lips and the crinkles around her eyes said she laughed a lot.

She'd said her name was Ivy, "As in poison ivy."

He registered the small bite of sarcasm. Oh, she liked saying that to people, but somewhere inside it had become a mantra.

"Ivy," he'd grinned, raised his glass, "There ain't nothing poisonous about you."

It earned him his first real smile, they clinked bottle and glass together and swigged down the remains.

He wanted to push, get her life story because the more he looked, the more he liked.

They'd slid closer together, purely so they could hear each other over the drumming beat.

She was interested finding out what he did for a living. He could admit that he got off on telling women he was a bounty hunter.

She'd looked at his brown-grey hair, pulled back in its leather thong, his receding hairline, his goatee surrounding his lips.

"I suppose you do have a 'Dog' thing about you."

He'd be a richer man if he charged a dollar every damn time someone mentioned that bounty hunter.

"The Stones tee and battered jeans are a better look, though." She'd not hid her eyes roving over him.

He wasn't fashion victim of the year; he wore what was comfortable, running around in leather wasn't fun, caused friction down below as well. Yeah, that wasn't one of his happier memories, ice bags on rubbed-sore jambags.

The beat faded and the usual hum of a packed bar crowded in. The bartender grabbed some coins from the tip jar and headed over to the jukebox; he slipped the coins in and pressed buttons. It was likely the guy knew every song on there. He made his selection came back and pointed at their empties.

"One for me," Dwalin spoke, tipping his head at Ivy, "Whatever the lady wants as well."

"Your weakest beer, please."

This woman was so far out of her depth here, and he badly wanted to discover what had chased her out this night.

The barman nodded, went to get their drinks, and a soft rift began playing, he loved this song and couldn't help singing along with it.

_A gypsy wind is blowing warm tonight,_

_The sky is starlit and the time is right,_

_And still, you're telling me you have to go,_

_Before you leave, there's something you should know._

"Yeah, something you should know, Babe." The smile lit her face, her eyes crinkling, cheeks plumping, she was gorgeous.

He grabbed her hand, didn't give her time to react as he pulled her up and away from the stools, curling his arms around her as he danced and sang with this beautiful woman.

_I've seen you smiling in the summer sun,_

_I've seen your long hair flying when you run._

He dragged a lock through his fingers, bringing the very ends to his nose, inhaling sunshine and apple, and her womanly scent.

_I've made my mind up that it's meant to be._

He stepped back twirling her around, her hair dancing, spinning on her toes, before winding her back into him. Her back pressed against his chest, as he swayed their bodies together.

_Someday lady you'll accomp'ny me._

He dipped his head, nose tracing her pert little ear, whispering the lyrics and feeling his breath cause all sorts of holy hell to her body.

_Someday lady you'll accomp'ny me,_

_Out where the river meets the sounding sea,_

_You're high above me now. You're wild and free, but,_

_Someday lady you'll accomp'ny me._

He couldn't resist placing a kiss on her exposed shoulder, tasting clean skin, a hint of her citrus moisturiser picked up on his tongue.

His lips dragged up, meeting her cheek as she pressed her face into him. Her breath puffing out, eyes closed, losing herself, losing that fear she wore.

His hand on her belly, fingers splayed, thumb pressing under her breast, following the curve, no straight lines or angles on this curving, sultry lady.

He found her ear, sucked the lobe, trailed his tongue over the shell of it. "What are my chances, Darling, of you accomp'ny'n me tonight."

A little shake of her head, "I..I can't."

"You can," he kissed her temple, shifting her hair back with his nose, filling his lungs with her clean scent, slightest hint of fresh sweat as he heated her slowly.

"I'm not…I'm not like that."

"Oh, Ivy, you are."

Her spine was beginning to stiffen, edging her body away from him. Standing straight, her height no match for his six/six frame.

"I'm not a—"

"No, you ain't, Darling. You're a hot-blooded woman, who needs this. This ain't me using you, Darling." His other hand slipped down mapping the rounded curvature of her hip, across her lower belly, down the opposite thigh, going as far as he could reach, back up to the button of her jeans, sliding a finger between denim and warm skin.

"This is you, using me, Darling. And I want you so very badly to use me."

He could feel in her body she was torn, "Come on, Darling."

A firm shake of her head, "I can't risk it, I'm sorry."

His hands hung on, pulling her back into him, keeping it gentle, letting her know she could break free if she wanted to.

"This ain't a risk, Darling. It's the surest bet you'll ever take."

She unwound his arms, and in a sleek move, he twirled her around, her mouth open in surprise and a little impressed with his smooth movements.

Dwalin pushed forward, keeping her walking backwards the little click of her heels ending as he pushed her against a wooden column.

He made sure to keep space, his height, muscular broadness were intimidating at the best of times.

"How about this," he made sure she was focused on him as he dropped his arms. "I take you to my hotel, it's five star Babe, we'll make love," she frowned at that, " then tomorrow, after I've brought you breakfast, you can tell me what's going on."

Her face closed up, those lips thinning, hazel eyes flecked with amber icing over. He placed one finger on her bottom lip.

"And when you tell me, I'll help you sort it. And after that, you can decide what this," he flicked a finger between them, "means."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is totally a different style of writing for me. I'd love to read your thoughts about it XD  
> Shout out to chrisdurin for another brilliant review and thank you to everyone who's left kudos <3

What the hell did she do with an offer like that?

She looked down at his boots, grinding her teeth as she thought how to answer.

The guy was tough, mega tough in fact. His tight Rolling Stones Tee showed off large pecs, bulging arms, a flat stomach.

Ivy closed her eyes, centring her breath. What would he think if she laid her shit on his doorstep? Yeah, the offer was tantalising. Temptation rolled up in a body with less than four percent fat.

Ivy shook her head and listened to that sigh of disappointment. Inside was a good woman, who couldn't stand what he would think of her if he knew the truth about her.

"I'm sorry," she opened her eyes and stared up at him. Sky blue met hazel, and she realised it would be so easy just to lean in. Her mouth betrayed her, tongue slipping out leaving them damp.

His pupils narrowed, a hawk spotting his prey, his lips responded pursing, his tongue sweeping a wetness she wanted to lick, taste.

She had to get away from him, this instant attraction couldn't be more than hormones and loneliness, she'd be having a thorough session with a vibrator if she hadn't left it behind. Tonight she'd have to make-do with her fingers.

She wondered how many times she'd have to come before she got this guy out of her system?

And, that was the completely wrong thought because now her mind was imagining all the ways she could use him. If he spoke more now, she'd crumple, throw herself at him.

No. Giving in wasn't an option. He was nice, not the best looking she'd seen, but there was something about him that made her feel she could open up. She could trust him. But, she'd repay him with a shit load of trouble.

He was a bounty hunter, not some Navy Seal crossed with Rambo and infused with a little Chuck Norris. If he were, she would be riding him into oblivion right now.

But he wasn't. The bail jumpers he caught likely didn't pose much of a threat; they probably weren't armed with big guns.

"You know, if you're thinking I can't handle problems, there's something you should know about me."

His face leant into hers, his lips a breath away. She couldn't focus on anything but that mouth moving.

"I can't get you involved." She moaned, lifting her head a smidgeon, her bottom lip catching his in a barely-there rub.

A hand on her side, another pressed against her hip, he slid easily between her legs, touching her bodily. Those chest muscles pressing against her breasts, her nipples reaching out for more.

"Darling, the moment you walked in here, I was involved." His hand slid down her thigh, fingers curling around her leg. He yanked up, holding her leg against his hip, and slid against her.

A full body shudder shot through her. The ache in her stiff nipples, the clenching of muscles inside her, grabbing at something that should be there, if she'd just say yes.

"I'm thinking, whatever it is that's haunting those beautiful eyes, your thinking I couldn't handle it?"

Ivy tried her hardest to bring up a bland expression, thought about boring stuff. But, how could she think inane thoughts when this badass biker was rubbing himself over her, leaving the scent of sex and alpha male all over her body.

"Let me tell you something, Darling. I've seen all different kinds of shit when I was a Marine, when I was special forces and when I became a bounty hunter."

He thrust roughly, jerking her up onto her toes. She could feel the wetness leaking out of her. Feel the stiff length of him against the denim seam. Christ, he did that again, and she'd come in her jeans.

"I can handle whatever you got trailing you. Come on Ivy, I dare you to give me a chance."

Shaking her head, that challenge thrumming through her, right down to her bones she felt like hauling up and slapping him, her fingers rubbed together, trying to quell the urge.

Then her body snapped tight.

* * *

What surprised Dwalin most is that Ivy didn't snap every bone in her body. Her solidity had him crowding in, both arms pressing to the wooden column, above her head.

"Where?" he demanded.

Her eyes flicked to the entrance, it was all he needed.

"Okay, here's what you're gonna do?"

Ivy's eyes slid to his, "How—"

"Shh, just listen. I know you're scared, but you're gonna use that fear. Got it?"

She nodded, he was glad she'd caught up with the situation.

"Fear used poorly will get you killed." He cautioned, "You already know where the exits are, I saw you scope'em earlier."

That fear was settling. Good girl, he thought.

"My bike is parked around the back, so that means you'll use the north exit."

She frowned, teeth biting her bottom lip. "For fuck's sake, don't do that," he growled at her. The last thing he needed was her making him harder than he already was. Chances were they weren't gonna get out of here without knocking some heads, and fighting when sporting an erection that could smash logs was not fucking easy.

Why did he have to think the word 'fuck'.

Her eyes whizzed around the bar, searching for something. "What is it?"

Ivy looked up at him, that panic rising, bleaching her skin of colour, showing blue veins through her smooth skin. Her chin wobbled, "I don't know where the north entrance is?"

Shit, his mistake. "The one by the payphones, make your way there when I tell you."

He spun her around so she was facing the column, "Act like you're watching the dance floor."

Slipping back to the bar, Dwalin grabbed his leather jacket, eyed the two men loitering at the front, scanning the crowd. The bartender flicked a glance his way. Dwalin nodded, and the guy walked to the other end of the bar, interrupting four big bikers conversation.

He smoothly made his way back, quick, but they wouldn't have recognised his march as one of urgency.

Throwing the jacket over her shoulders, "Put this on," he commanded. He pulled the collar up, hiding her long hair, hiding those damn curves any man would take a second look at.

She turned around, sliding her arms through the long sleeves, he reached in, apologising with his eyes as he skimmed her breast with his arm. From the hidden inside pocket, he pulled a gun. Her eyes rounded as she watched him. He checked the safety, slipped it into the front of his jeans, pulled his tee over the bulge. And morosely wondered if his other bulge would ever get taken care of tonight.

"If we get out of this, you're coming with me."

She stared up at him, a smirk tilting her lips. God, he wanted to kiss her right now.

"Deal," she murmured.

He kissed her, only a peck, the slightest slip of tongue against her bottom lip, tasting Bud.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, in and out, opened his eyes and stared at her.

From the change in her face, he knew what she saw. A badass former Marine, who was on a mission.

Ivy took off at his nod; he walked with her halfway, the peeled off as she made it to the passageway. Dwalin went straight for the main entrance. He walked past the men, who had seen a woman disappear down a side passage and were trying to get past four bikers.

He pitied those silly bastards. No one fucked with the Road Ravens.

In the car park, bikes, trucks, a few cars, a black SUV, nearly brand new, idling away towards the road. "Oh, I wonder which fucking vehicle theirs is." He snarked the comment as he passed a few more bikers who had just arrived.

Rounding a low wall jutting out the end of the bar, passing more parked bikes, he shot off towards his bike at the end.

And met a huge wall of a man. Bigger than him. Struggling. With a babe in a biker jacket.

Ivy!

He didn't think, didn't need to really. He knew what he was doing. He became the ex-special forces soldier his booted feet stopped making any sound, his breathing shallowed, eyes zoning in the near-dark. He slipped the Sig Sauer into his hand, released the safety. The scuffle in front hiding the click.

Slipping close, he smirked. Ivy brought one of those spiked heels up, and rammed it down. It caught her attacker, sliding down his covered shin. Dwalin knew what that felt like, the scrape of a stiletto could be more searing than a KaBar knife.

The heel carried on down until it slipped between a leather loafer and sock. She was doing mighty fine, the mountain hissing in pain as she ground her heel into thin flesh, scraping bone likely.

Then the bastard cuffed her around the head. The chi-click of him pulling the slide back, chambering one of fifteen bullets his gun held, had the man pausing mid-struggle.

He pressed the barrel against the back of his neck, the man letting go, hands raising. Ivy staggered forward, hands holding her head, and swerving a little, before getting her bearings and spinning to face the man.

Eyes pinballing in her sockets, she finally settled her gaze, strolled up, "Son of a bitch," she cried at him and slugged the man, hitting him in the nose.

The man cried out, grabbed his face and bent over. Dwalin pulled his keys out, grabbed Ivy before she could lay into the stupid bastard again and headed for his bike.

"Glad to see you listened to me."

"Glad to see you saw it," she smirked back.

He threw his leg over, key in the ignition, he gunned the engine. "Don't get cocky now, Ace."

"Oh come on, you gotta give me some credit," she preened, "I did good."

"Yeah, but the whole point of that, is so you can run away. Now, get on the damn bike."

She rolled her eyes and slipped on behind him. He tore out the parking lot, forcing a screech from the lady.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you all. Enjoy and let me know what you think of it. I know this is a different writing style for me. I would love to read your thoughts on it XD

 

He zoomed out so fast if she hadn't grabbed his waist she would have done a one-eighty off the back. Sliding close, arms around him she rested her head on his shoulder.

Finding that unsatisfactory she leant back, glancing down, wondering if she could hold onto the bitch bars. Wondered if it was frightening, and not so safe, leaning back holding on to twin bars of metal no longer than a steak knife.

"Hold on!" her hands slipped back around, meeting, hooking together. His snarl had her sitting straight, trying not to touch him without letting go.

She pressed close when the bike wobbled, he gunned the engine and swerved off the road into a near deserted, unlit parking lot, much smaller than the one they'd left behind.

He braked hard, sliding her crotch right into his ass, the seam cutting into her clit. She swallowed, leaning her head against his back, gulping down breaths. She couldn't remember ever being this turned on.

She should apologise, she knew she should, but, a part of her wanted to scratch his back, slap his face, do…something physical to him.

Instead, she sat there, simmering with sexual desire and physical rage. What the fuck was wrong with her?

"You feeling that, Ace?"

She clenched her eyes shut, gasping air. Sweat beading on her forehead.

"I gotta tell you," there was a healthy dose of caution and anger mixing the gruff tone of his voice. "If I get off this bike. I'm going to fuck you hard on the bonnet of that car."

Ivy looked across to where he pointed. A battered car, wide hood, it was navy blue, surprised she was able to see it in the dim light his headlamp threw out.

She lost focus her mind seeing him sprawled down over it, she climbing him, and rough riding him until they both came screaming.

"Ace?"

"What?"

"Did you hear me."

"Yes," she hissed.

"What do you wanna do?"

She banged her head against his back. Her mind fed her images, he taking her from behind, holding her hair like reins. She on her knees swallowing him, he between her legs eating her.

The images getting steamier, her body boiling over.

"I don't know," she screamed, her hands reached towards his shoulders and she snatched at his t-shirt, grinding her core against his ass.

He kicked the stand down, managed to get off the bike with her still on it. She was impressed with that flexible move, but didn't have time to show it.

"Dwalin!" he growled, yanking her off the bike.

"What?"

"My name," he snapped, "So you know what to scream when I make you come."

She hadn't realised he hadn't told her his name. He'd just always felt familiar to her since they met.

"Ivy." She commented.

He stopped, pulling her next to him. "I know you're fucking Ivy."

She smirked, her eyes sliding over to the car hood, "No, tough guy, you're fucking Ivy."

She sobered, swallowed, "What's going on?" She grabbed the bottom of her shirt, flapping it, trying to cool her overheated body.

Dwalin stepped in, one hip pressing against her, trapping her shirt. "You feel that?"

She shook her head, "What am I supposed to be feeling?"

"What you're feeling now."

She blinked, "I don't—"

"You can see, your eyes are snatching every bit of light, enhancing your vision." He waved his arm around the lot, she followed with her eyes. He was right.

"Take a breath?" she did, her tongue tasted oil, exhaust fumes, stale burgers, clean sweat, leather, her deodorant, his deodorant.

Wide eyes looked up at him.

"Your body's burning, and you feel like you could fuck for a solid twelve hours, right?"

She nodded, "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," he replied, "You're feeling what I'm feeling."

He took a deep inhale, his nostrils flaring, "You smell so goddamn good." He breathed out and his hands grabbed her shoulders. He got in her face, she could see the sweat dripping down his temple, his blue eyes, wild and crazy, veins bulging in his neck, his harsh breathing wafting against her skin.

"This, Ace, this is what being alive feels like. When you know, you just escaped death. It's victory and triumph and a huge dose of adrenalin. I felt this every time I came back from a mission alive."

"Okay."

"It ain't just gonna go away, it takes time to wear off. So, I'm gonna ask you again. What do you wanna do, Ivy?"

This is what being alive really felt like? Despite the running she'd been doing, she'd never felt this. It had always been stark terror. Now her system was overdosing with euphoria and she fidgeted in his hold. Her skin feeling like it was gonna rip off any minute and run away.

"Just, make it stop." She pleaded.

Dwalin smiled grimly, "Darling, this ain't gonna make it stop, but I can tell you now, you'll come hard and fast, lots of times."

He yanked her forward, towards the car that was painted in shadows.

"Lay down," she baulked at his tone.

"I thought I was the one using you." She snapped at him, folding her jacketed arms over her breasts, hiding her excitement.

"I'm just gonna take the edge off, Ace."

Oh, well, she supposed it didn't really matter who came first. She grabbed the jacket, ready to peel it off, "Leave it on."

"Will you stop with the orders."

"I like you smelling of me," he grumbled.

And…she liked that.

He growled, and before she could stop him, he'd unsnapped her jeans and was shoving them down her legs stopping at her knees where her boots began.

"You'll rip th—arghh."

He picked her up, flopped her on the bonnet that buckled under her weight. Grabbed her legs, forcing them to fold and wedged her heels near enough under her ass, he pushed her knees out far as they could go exposing her to the chill air, and before she could say a word he slipped two fingers into her, the thumb of his other hand attacked her clit and Ivy was left bucking and thrusting against his talented hands.

Her orgasm bludgeoned her, she dug her nails into paintwork, her spiked heels screeching into metal as she braced hard. Her scream composed of his name repeated over and over until it rang in her ears. When he made her come a second time, she was sure her head popped off. A third and she begged him for mercy. The fourth time he made her come lights blitzed her eyes, her ears crackled and her throat, sore from screaming, growled his name.

When she could see again, everything was much dimmer, Dwalin hovered over her, scrutinising her.

"You still alive, Ace."

"No, you fuckwad!"

He chuckled, "Glad to hear it."

Oh, she would make him pay.

"It's your turn on the cold car."

Dwalin smirked, "You don't sound very excited about it." His fingers shifted between her legs and she snapped them closed trapping his hand.

"Oh, Darling, you gotta be nice and wet to take me."

"Wet!" Ivy began scrambling backwards up to the windscreen, "It's like a goddamn waterfall down there." Her heels were doing a pretty good job of scratching up the paintwork, "It's my turn," she sulked.

"Okay Darling, give me your hand."

Ivy carefully gripped his fingers, keeping her eyes on him, he was too quick and strong for her. He kept his word helping her down off the car.

She looked around the lot, still abandoned. The passing cars likely couldn't see this far back.

Still, she was a bit nervous about taking her trousers off completely.

"How about, we take this more private?" Dwalin whispered in her ear, making her jump a little. There was a part of her who wanted to fuck him right now, but that other part that wasn't into exhibitionism was clamouring to be heard.

She nodded, swiftly wriggling her jeans back up, her backside still busy remembering the cold metal.

* * *

She checked her boots for the fifth time and Dwalin nearly hurled her over his damn shoulder. Ivy was better, not so strung out on adrenaline.

He, on the other hand, was buzzing, his zipper slowly being imprinted on his stiff cock with every move he made. Sometimes, being a gentleman sucked.

"Shit, that car totally ruined my stilettos."

"I'll buy you a new pair, come on."

Making it back to his bike he knew this was going to be hell. He thought of the reward at the end of his journey, if he still had a cock left of course.

He threw his long leg over the saddle and managed to mask his groan as a sigh of sufferance. "Move your ass, Ace."

Lowering himself to the seat, he felt tears rush his eyes. He grabbed his dick, trying to shift it to somewhere more comfortable through his jeans. His boner was having none of it. His cock was too swollen to move anywhere, and his jeans were too damn tight to allow him any relief.

He bowed his head, nearly touching the handlebars, this was going to be a long ride.

The 'click click' of heels and Ivy was on her way over. Those damn hips of hers swinging like pendulums. There was a time he'd asked Thorin if his lady was worth it. Dwalin thought his best friend was nuts for wanting Alanna and all the trouble that came with her.

He shook his head as Ivy grabbed his shoulder, he watched in his mirror as she swung that long, long leg over. She seated herself, wrapped her arms around him, and sidled that hot mound against him, her legs sliding against his.

Was this buxom brunette - with her sassy attitude, and a body built for all types of sin- running from some bad shit, honestly worth it?

He was going to have to eat plenty of crow when he got home. Shit, this was going to make Thorin's year. And that's likely how long it would take for Thorin to stop with the jokes.

But, hot damn, this lady was worth it!

Now all he had to do was get them to the hotel alive. It seemed an impossible feat, with her wrapped around him, and he sporting an erection that was not going away until it saw some action.

He turned the key, struck down ruthlessly on the kickstarter, revved the engine, pressed it into gear with his boot and gently shifted forward. No way was he taking this fast, he didn't have the mental capacities to focus on too much right now.

He nearly lost control when Ivy's fingers started shifting across his tee, those pretty painted nails lightly scratched at him. Her thumbs tracing his stomach muscles.

"You wanna us to crash, Ace?" he snarled, and the feeling of her pressing her head against his back, his skin reacting against the warmth of her laugh saturating through the thin cotton. She was worth it, every damn part of her was worth it.

Making it to his hotel in the centre of the city, through late traffic comprised of assholes and asshats, too many traffic lights and a tease riding behind him. Dwalin knew she'd better use him damn well tonight.

If he had his way, breakfast was going to turn into lunch and even then they'd be operating on only a couple of hours sleep. He idly wondered with a slow smile creeping across his lips if she was the grouchy sort when she didn't get enough sleep.

He was imagining bringing her out of her funk, feeding her some lunch, making her laugh with all his crap jokes. The tooting horn dragged his mind back, he was still stopped at the lights, and they were green. Gunning his engine, hearing that little snicker from behind. Oh, he was going to make her pay.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after the last chapter it's time to really heat things up! Here be smut.  
> Shout out to ChrisDurin for another fantastic review. I'd love to hear from other readers. Love this story, hate it? Let me know! I'd love to read your thoughts and trust me I don't bite and welcome all comments <3  
> On with the next chapter!

Pulling into the well-lit parking area of the glitzy hotel, Ivy looked up at the impressive building. It was ornate, matching the swanky downtown area it resided in.

It was a huge rectangle of glass and white brick. A doorman, like what she'd seen on tv shows and films, stood outside, he even had the hat!

"You've got a room here," she asked as Dwalin killed the engine.

"Sure do."

"Really?"

Dwalin swivelled around, one hand on her thigh his thumb caressing, staring down at her.

"This ain't no trick, Ace."

"I know, I know. It's just…" she threw a hand out at the building, then at herself, "I'm not exactly, you now."

His blue eyes ran up and down her.

"You look fine, besides my boss gives them a hell of a lot of business, they say shit, they're losing their fat contract."

Oh, well didn't that just make her feel a whole lot better. "I'm not here to cause any trouble."

Dwalin did a double take, "Are you shittin' me?"

"What?"

"You've been trouble ever since we met, what, four hours ago."

"Hey, you came over to me. Told me I should smash a bottle in your nose."

She met his glare, flicking back her hair, only for the breeze to blow it across her face again. Very fucking seductive, she bet she looked like a fucking Sasquatch.

His laugh made her grind her teeth as she yanked the hair away, ponying it behind her with one hand.

He slapped her thigh, "Jump off, Ace. Let's go ruin the night manager's day shall we."

"Oh, ha ha, fucking ha."

She began following him sticking to his shadow, but he grabbed her hand, laced their fingers and yanked her so she walked beside him. He grinned at her, white teeth bright against pale lips.

They neared the glass entrance, the doorman noticed them. She expected to be stopped, but the short man coiffed his hat, opened the crystal clear door for them, "Mr Dwalin."

They walked through, and honestly Ivy was convinced it was a mistake, expecting at any moment to be escorted off the premises. A bellboy nodded as he walked passed, "Mr Dwalin."

Dwalin just nodded back, a friendly gruffness to him. She looked at the tall badass biker strolling beside her, holding her hand. He had a brown hippie ponytail, streaked liberally with grey. His awesome goatee, fabulous cheekbones. He glanced down at her, smiling, his blue eyes sparkling with humour.

"Mr Dwalin?"

He paused beside the desk, the manager rounded it, perfectly decked out in his black and white suit.

"Mr Dwalin, a message was left for you from Mr Oakenshield, to contact him at your earliest convenience."

The man was all respect and manners, Ivy frowned. She went to move away, but Dwalin's fingers tightened, and he pulled her closer into his chest.

"Thanks, if he calls again, tell him I'm busy."

The night manager flicked his eyes to Ivy, swallowing nervously. Here it comes, she thought.

"Mr Oakenshield was very insistent about you contacting him."

"He probably was," Dwalin's gruff, friendly voice deteriorated, "but I'm busy." He began strolling away, Ivy firmly attached at his side by his strong fingers. He stopped, peered over her head, "Cancel my early morning call, will ya."

The manager nodded, his ashen face thinned out as he wandered back behind the desk.

"Why's he scared?" She trotted along with him, his steps gaining speed as they neared the row of elevators.

He shrugged, "My boss can be a hard-ass at times. Like I said, nice fat contract."

"Oh, okay."

The ping of the doors opening, a young man saying goodbye to a couple, dressed in tuxedo and evening gown, their eyes widening in offence. The man sneered, directed his wife, with her big glinting wedding ring, to his other arm, away from them.

Ivy's eyes shot to the floor. They shot up as Dwalin pulled her hand into his elbow, giving it a pat. "Don't mind rich assholes," he winked, the other man curling his lip.

Dwalin stopped, "You got something to say?"

The man and his wife sped past like they'd been catapulted. The bellboy smirked, holding the doors open. Dwalin carried on, strolling over, like there wasn't anything wrong with them. Well, maybe not Dwalin, but her…

A finger, between her brows, rubbed softly.

"You're too beautiful for a frown." Her eyebrows raised, eyes widening, smoothing away the ridges. "That's better."

Wow. When he wanted to Dwalin could be Mr Sensitive. Wait, "Why do they call you Mr Dwalin?"

"Cos it's my name?" The bellboy selected the top floor.

"But, I thought Dwalin was your first name?"

He shook his head, shrugging, "It's what everyone calls me."

"So…"

He shot a look at her, flicked his eyes over to the bellboy who had his back firmly to them, watching each number light up, one by one.

He smirked, and she glared.

"You don't wanna be looking at me like that."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr Dwalin, like what?"

She kept her face straight, flicking her hair over one shoulder, the red flecks laying bright against his black leather jacket his eyes tracking her movements.

"You're not going to like the consequences."

She smirked at him, prodding a chiselled nail into his chest, "You're not going to do anything here."

If it hadn't been so damn good, she would have wondered why she had to provoke him. But, as his tongue forced her mouth open, his lips sliding over hers. One hand grabbed her hair, yanking her head back, the other hand firmly attaching to her ass. He pulled her up, pressing that firm bulge into her. He thrust his tongue mimicking what he wanted to be doing right now.

It was her ragged moan that brought them both back down to earth. Followed by a ping, "Your floor, Mr Dwalin."

He was breathless, indigo eyes boring into hers, "You're going to be the death of me." He murmured before turning, grabbing her hand and yanking her forward.

There were two doors, marked each as a penthouse suite. Left was Number One, and right, which he stopped at was marked Number Two. Slipping out his wallet from his back pocket he pulled out a fancy gold key card and swiped it through the lock.

She followed him through, not that she had much choice, he'd grabbed her wrist. It was a good idea, the night's events were pressing in on her brain, and the urge to run was coming on strong.

The door clicked shut, and for good measure, he twisted the deadlock. Could he tell she was ready to flee? His careful look and slowed movements told her the man could read her too well.

He walked to the mini bar, if you could call it that. It took up half a wall. The flat screen tv took up the other half.

Two couches and two easy chairs were arranged in the square room. A big ass fireplace on the other wall. In front of her were a double set of french doors, separated by a white brick column, both leading to a balcony bigger than her old apartment.

This was luxury, the furniture looked plush, she was sure it was the type that would swallow her in softness when she sat in it. She stayed away. It was white, and right now she didn't feel at her cleanest.

Dwalin appeared beside her offering something in a glass, dark amber and overloaded with ice cubes that crackled and pinged.

Even the glass was thick fancy crystal and the fear that she would drop it was strong enough to keep her hands firmly at her sides.

"Take it, Ace." he shoved it against her chest nearly spilling it over her shirt. She instinctually grabbed for it, the glass heavy, damp with condensation.

"The worst thing about an adrenaline high," he walked over to an iPod dock, began fiddling with it, "is the coming down afterwards."

He turned back to her, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I wouldn't know." It was the truth, every time she'd run, she'd never felt that way, only cold terror.

"Well, you see when you come down, you sometimes get these stupid notions."

He was goading her, she damn well knew it, but that didn't stop her mouth, "What notions?"

"Oh, I dunno, like," he tipped his head towards the door, "Running off."

His eyes came back to hers. The friendly blue turned icy, there was no twinkle of humour, no sign of the attraction that had been there.

"I thought I was here to use you, does it matter what happens afterwards."

"It matters." His voice was steel. That frisson of fear crept down her spine, she looked at the whisky in her glass.

"For fuck's sake, Ace," he took a step forward and she darted back, "I'm not going to hurt you. I see it in your face. You wanna run, and God help me, all I wanna do is protect you."

Ivy shook her head, "What if you can't."

"Try me."

"We got lucky, don't you see that?"

"No," he snapped, taking another step forward. "You got lucky. However many damn times you've picked up and run, but your luck is running out, Ivy."

She knew he was right, but, she liked him. She couldn't do this to him. What would he think of her, in the end?

"And, you can forget all those noble thoughts."

She was beginning to think he was a mind reader.

"I'm not some piece of dick you picked up in a bar, Ace." He took another step, "I'm a former U.S. Marine, ex-Special Forces, and a bounty hunter for the biggest private securities company in this country." Another step, "I don't bring in people who got speeding tickets, or drug addicts who robbed their Mamma." She tilted her head up to keep her gaze locked with his as he came another step closer.

"I chase the bad folks, Ace. Never chase unless their bail is more than half a mill." Her eyes bugged at that, "That's right, Ace. I chase the motherfuckers you ought to be scared of."

Another step and she could feel the warmth of him against her chest, the ice in her glass seemed to be melting quicker.

"So, here's what I'm saying in case it ain't penetrating through all that hair," his hand came up, his curled fingers stroked her cheek. "I am likely bad as, if not worse than what's chasing you, Ace."

She swallowed, he was serious. There wasn't a drop of mistruth in his face. This man totally believed he could protect her.

"And Ace," he tipped her chin up, "If you can't believe my words, then believe my actions."

He captured her mouth, the fire she'd experienced in the elevator was banked this time. Soft, full lips slid against hers. Warm, wet tongue lapped at her, little darts into her mouth, barely glancing off her tongue. It was her turn to be the aggressor, her hands wrapping around his neck, pulling herself on tip-toe. She flung herself into this kiss, chasing his tongue into his mouth. Hot and wet, she tangled with him, reaching deep to take the taste of him, mixed with the smoky, spicy aromatic essence of the whisky he'd sipped.

The glass was between them, and she pulled back looking for somewhere to rest it. Dwalin grabbed the glass, tossed it back. She watched as he rolled the liquid in his mouth, lips pursed, cheeks moving. She smiled at him; he swallowed, and she stared at that throat moving. He smacked his lips, clenched the glass tight and wrapped his arms around her.

His mouth landing on hers as she got to enjoy that taste of him again. His hand slipped under her shirt at the back, and Ivy squeaked at the cold glass pressed against her spine, curling in on herself, while trying to dislodge it. The ice clinking around in the empty glass.

"So," he kissed her nose, "you still want to use me?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded.

"You going to be here for breakfast?"

Ivy swallowed big, it was loud in the room, even over the low music she didn't realise was playing. She breathed deep, closed her eyes, rested her forehead against his chin.

"Yes," she breathed the word out, not sure if she'd said it loud enough. Dwalin pulled away, and she froze wondering what she'd done, wondering how to get him back in her arms.

He placed the glass down next to the dock and hit the volume up. It seemed he had a thing for Bob Seger.

He walked back to her, holding out his hand, "May I have this dance?"

She near fell into his arms and was glad his strength steadied her, grounded her. Right now, she felt like spinning off this earth, but he was there, holding her tight, swaying her gently to the music. He sang in that low voice of his, his hands sliding over her back, up to her neck, down to her ass.

_ We've got tonight, _

_ Who needs tomorrow, _

_ We've got tonight, Babe, _

_ Why don't you stay? _

He mapped her, learnt every curve and wavy line that made up her body. He drifted his thumb down her spine, sending a shiver through her.

His hands drifted down to her ass, spreading over her thighs as he bent his knees. She could feel those muscles tightening and with a little jump she was up.

Her legs automatically wrapped around his thighs, his hands on her rear cheeks holding her high. It was her turn to lower her head and catch his mouth.

Her hands darted to his head, following the receding hairline, sleeking back to the ponytail, pulling out the leather thong that held it back. She snatched handfuls up, scrunching it in her fingers.

Breaking away she stared down at him, "You've got split ends."

He blinked, "Are you serious, right now."

"Well, I, you know, I could cut them."

"Not now!"

"No, no of course not now, it's just, you know, it's not good for your hair."

He threw his head back, "Christ on a crutch, you are driving me crazy!"

Ivy shifted a little, and he brought his gaze back to her, "Tomorrow, I swear, you can cut every damn split end, tonight, you'll have to live with my imperfections."

Ivy laughed, and he watched her mouth intensely, "That's the most beautiful laugh I ever heard."

She reddened and hid her flustered face by kissing him again. She lost herself again in his kiss and only pulled back when something hard slid beneath her ass.

She was on the bar, eye to eye with Dwalin. "You never answered my question, about your name."

He nodded, "So?" she tried again.

"You don't get that."

He was serious, and Ivy couldn't hide the hurt.

"I told you, I want to see what this means."

"And that's got what to do with your name?"

"You stick around, you wanna try, you get my name."

"I don't like this," Ivy wriggled away, why the hell were they getting into another argument. It was a stupid name.

"Everyone calls me Dwalin, always have." He stopped her wriggling, sliding her forwards so he was between her legs. His hands on her thighs, thumbs caressing the seams. "But I want someone to know my name. That someone gets to call me something no one else ever will. They get to shout it when I'm riding them," he pecked at her lips, "They get to say it in the morning when we wake up together." He dropped his tiny kisses to her neck, "And they get to say it when they kiss me when I come home."

What could she say? He'd said he wanted to convince her with his actions. Now, Ivy wanted to convince him this wasn't one-sided.

"I don't want to use you," she began, pulling free she slid his leather jacket off, Her hands pressed against his cheeks, "Make love with me?"

As Bob Seger sang about Mainstreet, Dwalin fisted his hands in her hair and pulled her to him. His kiss was excitement and expectation rolled together.

"It'll be an honour, Ace."

He nibbled her neck, tongue slipping out, sucking and biting down to her shoulder where her tee hung low. His hand moved low, grabbing the hem and he dragged the shirt off leaving her in a sexy black lace bra.

His brows rose, and he took his time running his fingers over her chest, inspecting everywhere.

Ivy was lost, head tipped back, overloaded by his sensual stimulation. The man knew how to tease, barely there touches that didn't tickle, but made goosebumps rise up on her arms.

When at last he reached around her and unhooked her lacy bra, taking his unhurried time to drag the straps bit by bit down her arms, unwrapping her like maybe she was the only present he'd ever receive in his life.

He used his nose to shift the cups, achingly slow in revealing her. The temptation to hurry him was balanced with the need to feel everything in detail that this man did to her. She wanted to miss nothing but keeping her eyes open while her brain tried to process the smallest touch was a herculean effort, one that she was losing.

When he revealed her nipple, he gazed at it. His hands stroking her back, his breath warm on her chest. His focus, though, entirely on her coral nipple that budded up for him.

He moved infinitesimally closer, his breath now hot, his hands trembling slightly. It was like the proverbial starving man. His tongue flicked out for the smallest of tastes. Like the whisky, he rolled it around in his mouth.

He glanced at her, that twinkle she'd missed back in his indigo eyes. His hands came up, sliding over her neck to the back, collecting her hair as he went.

He held it up and away leaving it clear for his lips to come down on her shoulder. Slow, open-mouthed kisses dampening her skin, his warm breath shifting down her back, that smell of leather mixed with oil, the bitterness of the beer he'd drunk earlier, fresh sweat. It all jumbled together, touch, sound and smell.

He nipped her jaw, bringing her focus back to him, "Eyes on me, Ace."

She shook her head, "You make me feel too much."

He smirked, licked up her chin to her bottom lip, "I can assure you the feeling is mutual."

He collected her hair in one hand, holding it high, brought his other round to stroke her cheek, her nose, her brow, mapping one side of her face, while his eyes scrutinised the other.

"You are beautiful," he leant in for a kiss, "Sexy," he traced a finger down her face, her neck, "trouble," he whispered against her lips.

Ivy raised a brow, and he chuckled she found that sound sexy as hell.

"I want you to be the best trouble I ever get into."

She swallowed, "Same to you, Dwalin."

That grin, the one that dimpled his left cheek spread over his face. "You wanna get out of this trouble."

Her hands came up framing his cheeks, smoothing one finger over that dimple, "I always want to be your trouble."

She pulled him into the kiss, this time, she was the aggressor, prying his lips apart and slipping her tongue in. She chased the taste of him, lapping at him, little kitten licks that she knew was driving him wild. He was vocal about it, his one hand resting on her neck, his fingers clenched and released in a spasmodic rhythm only he knew.

Her hands went to his tee, she yanked, pulled, caught him with her nails.

"Don't assault the Stones, I like this shirt." He grumbled, but she didn't care.

"Off," she commanded, rucking the material up. He had to release her, threw his arms up and back, grabbing the tee from behind pulling it over his head.

He stepped back, pulling the soft material over one arm at a time. Throwing it away, he stood there in his jeans. His belt was studded, a Harley Davidson buckle was all that was keeping it latched.

She smirked, oh this was a challenge. Her hands itched to rip that belt free, unbutton his jeans, slide that zipper down…

"Hmm, I knew it, you're trouble."

Ivy lowered her head, looking up at him through those long sooty lashes.

"Shit!" he moved, grabbing her, hands tugging the rest of her bra free, fingers tracing her breasts, learning her. His mouth nudged her face up, and he kissed her deep and rough.

She ran her nails down his back and sides, legs curling around him, closing the space, trapping his hands.

His thumbs flicked her nipples, the barest sting as his nails caught her. She gasped into his mouth. He growled. Firm fingers rolled her nipples, it caused the effect of her hips thrusting against him.

He pulled away, took a deep breath, and it was on. Hands went to each other's jeans. She yanked his buckle frowning at the damn thing as it didn't rip away or even come loose.

He slipped his fingers between denim and skin, pulling at the gold button, trying to press it into the hole. He yanked at it.

Ivy giggled as he nearly pulled her clear off the bar. Dwalin reddened, and she watched that heat rise to his ears. It was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

He gave her a half-smile in apology and undid his belt. She unsnapped her button. Together they lowered their zips. Metal teeth unlocking loud in the room.

Ivy could hear her blood rushing through her ears, could see him swallowing down shallow breaths. They came together again, hands gliding everywhere.

She rocked her body side to side, helping Dwalin pull her jeans down, his thumbs catching her underwear. She wore sensible pink hi-cuts, not exactly expecting this night to end as it was. She was also not a butt-floss girl.

Thankfully, all he was interested in was getting her clothes off, quickly.

The boots stopped him going further. Stepping back, pulling her leg up straight, he searched for the hidden zip.

Undoing her boot carefully, "Next time, I think I might like you to be wearing these," he glanced up, "Just these," he caressed the soft suede, before pulling it off, placing it on the floor with respect.

He peeled her sock off from beneath her jeans, touched each neatly painted toe. She was damn glad she'd shaved that day.

"Can you quit the inspection, my ass is getting cold." And it was. The cold Formica was beginning to warm slowly, but in that sticky way that meant he'd have to peel her off.

"Okay, Ace. We wouldn't want to leave half of you behind."

"Not to mention I don't want my sweaty butt imprint being washed off tomorrow by housekeeping."

He laughed, an honest-to-goodness, throw his head back, full belly laugh that did amazing things to those impeccable tummy muscles. A guy his age with a six pack that rippled. Oh, she was looking forward to riding those waves tonight.

She licked her bottom lip, pulled it into her mouth with her teeth, eyes glued to those muscles that were coming nearer. That fuzzy trail appearing from his jeans, widening as it travelled up, spreading out over his chest, his nicely formed pecs. He had the gall to call her all types of sin!

"Don't worry, I'll give you plenty of time to play…later."

She smirked, "You promise."

"Scout's honour."

"You weren't a scout."

Dwalin smirked, "You got me, I just like their cookies."

"Cookie monster, huh?"

"You know my secret."

He unzipped her boot, yanked it off, not so delicate now with his moves. His hands were trembling, he reached for her jeans and panties.

"I bake cookies," he stopped, glanced up at her, oh the emotions that rolled over those blue eyes.

"I'll let you fuck me any way you want if you bake me cookies."

"Is that a promise?"

"Well, you know what they say, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"That's funny," he yanked the jeans down stalling her for a moment. When he held the last of her clothes in his large hands, she added, "I always thought it was through his chest, with a really big knife."

He chuckled, "Remind me to keep you away from the cutlery."

"That's a good idea," she leant back on her hands, legs opening a little, "I can only bake cookies. I'm shit at everything else."

He slid his hands up her thighs, "Good job I know how then."

"Oh?" his thumbs caressed her inner thighs at the seam, so close to where she wanted him.

"I live on my own, travel a lot. I gotta eat healthy, keep in shape."

"Ahh," one thumb came too close, she tried to disguise her moan, "well, that's good. Really good, that you can cook, I mean."

Shit, she was losing this game and the grin on his face told her so.

"I can make a salad." What the…

Ivy looked down mortified, she twitched her lips. "Yeah, that sounded better in my head."

Dwalin shifted his hands, sliding them under her legs pulling her skin away from the Formica. "I happen to like salad."

It was the last word, and, she wondered if this carried on would he always have the last word, sweet as it was, though.

He hauled, those muscles in his arms bulging, he took her weight easily, no puffing, no strain showing on his face. He carried her through the lounge kicking open an ajar door.

She was too focused really to watch the scenery, his stomach muscles against her mound rippled. She threw her head back at the thrill shooting through her. She screamed at the controlled fall, hitting the soft bed.

He stood above her, and she waited, breath removed his biker boots, set them aside carefully. Tugged his belt through the loops, dropping it to the floor. Next, he pushed at his jeans and shucked them off kicking them away with one foot. The last was his socks, and that was a good move, she might think differently of a man who made love in his socks.

Leaning on the bed, he crawled over. She opened her legs to him, cradling his heated body. His hair hung over his shoulders and it was her turn to hold it out the way.

He slipped his arms behind her and she was cloaked in his body, it gave her the allure of safety. Kissing his shoulder in thanks, before her body was jolted.

She didn't know it was coming, her head smacking into his chest, he'd rolled them, she was on top a hand coming up to cradle her forehead.

"Well, that didn't go as smoothly as I planned."

"You think, Christ your chest is hard."

She rubbed her head, running her hand through her hair. "That was a shit thing to do."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not good enough, you nearly scrambled my brain. Where would we be then?"

He shrugged beneath her, "E.R."

She glared at him.

He shifted a little under her, his cock tapping her ass, she sat up and reached behind her, "Could you keep control of Junior."

"You want me to keep control of him," his face showed disbelief, "who the fuck has come four times tonight."

"That's beside the point, I'm injured."

"Well if you lift up, I got the cure."

Ivy gave him her double-strength glare, "You're a real fuckwad, you know that."

He deflated, his eyes going slack and sad, bottom lip plumping out, his body becoming smaller in some way. His erection stayed stiff in her hands.

Guilt flooded her, she had no right to turn this into an argument, her thumb caressed his leaking head, circling and sliding over it in different patterns. "I'm sorry."

She would have begged, she even began preparing words in her mind, but that sparkle in his eyes gave him away.

Breathing in, ready to exhale a tongue lashing of epic proportions, he stopped her.

"You're the finest lady, Ace."

She choked on her breath and it came out as a snort. "You're loving this?"

It was confusing and a little bit of so right, well actually a lot of so right. It was familiar and unique, and this man was tipping her world upside down, but she liked it, a lot.

Not knowing what to say, she squeezed him, and he bucked up in her hand, his neck arching, eyes rolling back.

"Sweet Jesus" He choked out.

She pumped him, feeling more of him leak out, using it as a natural lubricant and when she couldn't take anymore, she lifted up.

Placing him where she wanted. His eyes flicking from between her legs to her face, indecision heavy in his features.

"Watch me take you," she solved his problem. His eyes are latching to his cock.

His whole body trembled as she lowered slowly, feeling him part her. He was wide, and she was slick. Whether from their jaunt in the parking lot, foreplay in the lounge or their ongoing battle of wills she didn't care.

He slipped inside, she breathed harder. He slid deeper, deeper until she was ultimately joined with him. He gazed at her, his eyes heavy with the thrill of sex, his nostrils flaring. Hands on his chest, she pushed up. They both hissed. She came down, bodies slapping together. Crap, he was rubbing every nerve and she couldn't take much more, her body too sensitive.

"Dwalin," she begged.

His hands grabbed her hips, and he helped her with every thrust. She cried out at each impact penetrating her core. He growled each time they separated. It was the perfect cacophony.

His body trembled as hers vibrated. His eyes narrowed, determined to watch them come together again and again. She tipped her head back, hair caressing her behind, crying his name, eyes clenched shut.

It was too much and not enough. She needed that something to throw her over and no matter how hard she searched she couldn't quite find it.

He rolled them, her back hitting crisp cotton. His arms slipped beneath her knees, resting his hands above her shoulders, her ankles around his neck.

"Hold on," he cautioned.

She couldn't move so his warning was pointless. The first rough snap of his hips had her grabbing his face, the second his ears, her back arched thrusting her breasts into his face. He didn't pass up the accidental offering and bit and sucked her nipples, alternating each one.

Her hands released him, stretched above her head and she could reach the other side of the mattress. Locking her fingers, she kept hold as best she could as he fucked her deep, harsh, scouring her core fully leaving her over-sensitised and on edge.

"I can't," she begged.

"You can," he commanded, his pace picking up as her legs slipped down caught by his elbows. Her body rocked like a ship on stormy seas.

He took her faster, higher, both of them making noise enough to wake the whole floor if they weren't the only ones on it.

She was ready, she was going to come hard. She could feel her muscles latching on to him. He stopped.

"No, no," she cried scrabbling at him to get him to move. He pulled out, and she was forcefully turned over. He slapped her ass, "On your knees."

She wasn't arguing, pushing up on hands and knees, he crowded behind her, his fingers finding her entrance before he placed his cock there and shoved in.

His hands snatched at her hair, and her arousal skyrocketed as he pulled. He began to rock slowly, figuring out how much she could take. She couldn't find words to tell him, her mind too focused on that little sting from every root of her hair.

He seemed to evaluate her body's reactions, but he left a margin for error when he whispered, "Tell me if it's too much."

Right now it wasn't even enough.

He wrapped his fist in her hair, yanked her head up, looking straight ahead at the mirrored wardrobes.

Holy shit, he was like some mythical warrior, all bulging muscles and sweat, hair wild, sticking to his flushed face. His expression was purely majestic.

She watched him pull back, one hand on the rise of her bottom, fingers splayed. He surged forward, hitting bottom, nearly shunting her off the bed, his fist wrapped in her hair stopping her movements, snapping her back into his oncoming thrust.

Her body trembled her mouth falling open, she grasped every breath. Every slam sent a shockwave through her, ramping up her desire. Her core tightened on him, she tried to shake her head, but couldn't move.

She would never tell him it was too much.

He kept her on edge, each time she was close he would stop or gentle his movements. His hand stroked her ass, and as he brought her close again, he slapped one cheek.

The burn of it made her scream. Too much stimulation from all over her body, every part of it demanding attention in her brain.

He slapped the other cheek, it wobbled slightly, and he placed his hand there, rubbing the sting.

His eyes watched hers in the mirror, gauging every move, seeing how far he could push her. He grinned, slapped one cheek, rubbed, hit the other, and stroked.

He set up the rhythm each stinging slap harder than the last. It kept her poised between pain and pleasure, and still neither was enough to drive her over the edge.

"Please," she whimpered. Her body drenched in sweat, her juices leaking out over her inner thighs. She wanted to come so badly now.

He gave her no mercy, just forced her into overdrive.

Her body turned into one exhilarating nerve ending. Every touch of his fingers, the slap of his thighs, his cock drilling her. He tugged her hair, and her body strung tight like a bow, muscles clenching all over.

She began panting not sounding at all attractive.

"Hold on a little longer for me, Darling."

She focused on pushing back the tidal wave, this incredible need to please him.

He spanked her then. No tender touches in-between, hard slaps that reddened her ass and set his breathing to gasping. He stopped, pulled out entirely, leant down, and bit her ass.

"Fuck," she screamed, "I can't hold on, I can't," her voice rose to a high-pitched sound she didn't even know she was capable of making.

He must have seen her panic in the mirror. His expression dangerous as he knelt up, slammed into her.

He knocked the breath out of her with every shove, she could feel the sweat running down her body, the coolness of the room drifting over her, setting off tingles.

The shockwave radiated out from her core, and her body juddered, spasmed, he slammed on through her first orgasm and as her second one hit, more powerful, robbing her of sight, sound, and feeling he growled, "I'm coming."

She forced her eyes open seeing that beautiful body undulate behind her as he exploded in her. Her body so sensitive she could feel every spurt of him filling her.

His head was thrown back as he emptied. Straining into her making sure he left every part of him inside her.

When he slowed and finally stopped, his body swayed. If he fell off the bed, she was no position to help him. Her arms barely held her up, shaking as much as they were.

He released her hair, and she fell forward face buried in the white sheets. He collapsed onto her back, his cock sliding out of her.

"I think I ruptured something," he muffled the words against her wet skin.

She laughed, "You ruptured something," she made a half-hearted attempt to swat him, but missed completely and hit her hip.

"Can you move?" he asked, his dry lips dragging against her skin.

"Fuck no. You?"

"Same."

She found it hilarious.

"What are you laughing at," he sounded absolutely drained.

"I think this is the only thing we've agreed on."

His body lurched with his own choked laugh, "Well, that's always a good start for a relationship."

"Uh-huh." She didn't have energy for words anymore.

"Mind if I sleep here?"

She nodded, tried to say yes, she minded, but his first snore cut the silence.

"Fuck it," she whispered and passed out herself.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another chapter. The serious lack of reviews is telling me this isn't one of my better stories. I'm sorry for that. However, at least it helps me to see what works and what doesn't. There are only a few more chapters to go in this story.
> 
> A big thank you for reading it anyway XD
> 
> Shout out to Lovely_Little_Rage_Heart for the wonderful review and to everyone who left Kudos XD

**Loving Ivy**

**Chapter Five**

 

 

Dwalin came to, his eyes were crusted with sleep and he tried to raise a hand to wipe at them. He hit his nose instead.

He was thinking on how much he must've drunk the night before to get so wasted when his body registered breathing.

Stilling, he sent out his senses. The air was heavy with a musky scent. His cheek was pressed against something warm and smooth, his feet were dangling off the bed.

The smell of sex, a warm woman, and he'd slept on top of her.

Memories came back thick and heavy and his cock immediately took notice.

Ivy.

Trouble in heels.

He beamed, his lips widening, his dry face feeling as though it was going to split apart.

He cracked his eyes, she was lying on her front, hands pillowing her head, softly snoring with the face of an angel. Albeit one that had fallen from grace.

The woman was wicked, and it brought a hundred types of glee to him. He could wake up every day like this.

He shifted and his back ached, maybe not sleeping like this every night was a good idea. The woman wore him down to a god damn stump. He was surprised he still had his dick attached to him.

She'd come so hard around him, he was sure she'd ripped the poor thing off. If it weren't wagging against her leg, he wouldn't even have known it was still there.

He looked up at the window, it was still dark outside. He pegged it to be around three am. Still time to get some sleep, but first.

Pulling himself up was all different kinds of pain. His body rejected the idea of leaving the comforting curves of his woman. His cock adamantly wanted to find the nearest hole and screw it relentlessly. His arms wanted to turn her over and stroke her into wakefulness.

It was a killer doing the right thing, but he slid off the bed onto shaky legs, pulled back the covers. He reached for her, shushing her when she moaned a little and managed to get her in the bed without waking her. He climbed in next to her, pulled her into him and rested there. Watching her sleep, her hand coming up to rest on his belly, her breath puffing over his skin sending the sweetest sensations to his brain.

Ivy was a conundrum, for now. He'd get the truth of her situation, and then, like he promised, help her to resolve it.

On that thought he slid lower, her hand now resting on his chest, over his heart. Finding comfort in that, he allowed his drowsy body to slip back into sleep.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, sunlight doused by white chiffon radiated through the room casting everything in a dark cream. He glanced down at Ivy, still sleeping peacefully, curled into his side.

He didn't bother guessing the time, just reached out for the little travel alarm clock he kept with him, one finger pushing it until he could see the dial.

Nearly eleven, he could still order breakfast, but he decided they could grab lunch. The lady would probably like to get cleaned up. Afterwards, they'd talk, and he'd give her a ride to her place and they could collect her stuff.

His mark wasn't due into town until tonight, he'd check with his CI's though, just to make sure, and at some point, he'd need to talk with Thorin.

His woman shifted, and he watched transfixed as the lady stretched every muscle but didn't move an inch.

Her eyes opened and she quick-blinked, bringing everything into focus. Hazel eyes drifted up to him leisurely, and that warm smile did nothing to stop his libido kicking in.

"How the hell do you do that?"

"Do what?" her hand rubbed over his chest. A cute frown on her face.

"Stretch like that."

"Ohh," she spoke zen-like, "You'll have to learn it. It takes lots of practice."

"I'll bet it does," he mumbled.

"Mmm, what time is it?"

"Eleven," he couldn't stop looking at her.

"Staring is rude," she commented as she rubbed her eyes and yawned. She had the prettiest teeth. A big mouth, though.

But then a big mouth meant…his cock jumped and he couldn't help the jerk his entire body gave.

"You okay?" she mumbled as she slid away from him. His body missing her warmth already.

"Fine," he grumbled, reaching out with his hand to grab her, but missing as she sat up and swung her legs over the side.

"I need the bathroom," she spoke over her shoulder.

"It's over there," he pointed at the closed door.

"Okay," she looked around the room.

"What is it?"

"You own a bathrobe, perhaps?"

Shit, she was embarrassed about him seeing her now?

"Ace, I've been between your legs, I've made you come a handful of times. You think there's a part I haven't seen?"

She hung her head.

"Fuck," he whispered, climbed out of bed, freezing his ass, and walked over to the dresser and pulled out a tee for her. He didn't do bathrobes or nightwear.

"Here," he threw the soft cotton at her and climbed back into bed, huddling under the covers, peeking out so he could watch her.

She inspected it, looked at the logo, a big red set of lips with a tongue poking out.

"You really like the Rolling Stones, huh?"

"Uh-huh."

She shook her head, her tangled hair rolling from one shoulder to the other. Slipping it on, she pulled it over her hips as she stood and made her way over to the bathroom, closing and locking the door.

He covered his head, a large smile crawling over his lips. For once, he was eager, happy even. Sure he wasn't shy of bed partners, but none of them compared to Ivy. The woman was fire, pure and simple. She heated him up to a thousand degrees and didn't care about getting burned.

Yep, Thorin was going to take great pleasure in getting his own back. Dwalin shrugged to himself, he was too fucking happy to care.

Well, he couldn't stay in bed all day. Whipping the covers off, he crawled out of bed and slid his jeans on, just to keep his tackle from freezing. He wondered into the living room and grabbed his jacket. He pulled out his cellphone.

It had been set to silent, but his notifications showed four missed calls from Thorin, and two from Bal, his brother.

Bal didn't call unless it was urgent. He unlocked his phone and brought up his contacts. Not that he had many.

Calling Bal, he paced around the lounge. He wandered over to the bar, seeing if he could spot any sweaty butt prints.

Bal answered brightly, "Brother, it's good you called."

"Well, I've only just got up, so what is it."

"Thorin needs you to call him, urgently. One of his clients has a problem."

"Okay, I'll call him," he scratched his ear, "anything else?"

"No, that was all, I'll let him know you'll be in contact."

"Yep, sure. Bye."

"Well, I can tell you've only just got up, very talkative as usual, Brother."

This is why he didn't call Bal all that often, "Look, I'm tired and I ache, so give me a break, Balthazar.

The line went quiet, "Shit, sorry Bal, I'll call Thorin, and as soon as I'm back in town, I'll be over."

"That would be appreciated, Brother."

No hard feelings, is what his brother really meant. "Okay, I gotta go, see you soon."

He hung up and slipped his phone into his back pocket. Ivy meandered out, looking a bit more awake. She still wore his Stones tee and had managed to brush her hair. Her brown hair with its rusty coloured highlights and slight curl hung elegant and shiny down her shoulders. He liked the little flicks at the ends, she'd managed to style it with his brush, but then, she'd mentioned something about cutting split ends.

"You're a hairdresser?"

She paused, her eyes narrowed a little at him, "How do you know that?" her tone was flat, no trace of his woman in it.

Alarm bells rang but he kept it close, "You said something about my split ends."

"Oh!" She smiled wide, "Yeah, I did. Sorry, I'm not awake, and well, you know," she shrugged.

His alarm switched off, she was cautious, that's all it was.

"How about you shower and I order some lunch?"

Head tipping to one side she gazed at him, "I could get used to this," her voice was dreamy, like her eyes.

He nodded, "Me too," and in that statement, he offered his heart.

The smile grew on her face mingled with a shy uncertainty.

"Go shower," he ordered as his body reacted to her.

She disappeared and he headed for the hotel phone.

Ivy took a long time to shower and then spent an exorbitant amount of time using the hairdryer the hotel provided. He would still like to get a shower before lunch appeared, but that looked like a bust as a knock sounded.

He opened it to room service and they wheeled in the big trolley, all fancy silverware that shined and reflected the room.

He gave a tip and the bellboy hightailed it. Dwalin waited on the couch. He hoped the food wouldn't go cold, his stomach rumbling prompted him to go to the bedroom door.

"Food's here," he called. He wasn't sure if she heard him over the drone of the dryer. He went to the bathroom door, he banged.

The scream and the clunk of the dryer hitting the floor had him opening the door sharply.

Ivy stood in front of the basin and mirror holding her heart, eyes closed as she breathed harshly.

"I'm sorry," he apologised ungracefully and he earned a glare from her.

Before she could snap at him, he added, "We're gonna eat, then you're gonna tell me just what level of shit you're in."

She stared at him, swallowing loudly, "No more stalling, Ace," he continued softly, "I want this between us, but not with you looking over your shoulder every damn minute, got it."

She nodded.

He ran his tongue around his mouth, not sure if he liked her silent or not. Backing out he went to the dresser and grabbed a clean tee before heading for the lounge, he sat down and stared at the covered trays. His alarm was back louder than ever.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for not updating in a while. Things have been a little chaotic, but here's another chapter for you all.  
> Shout outs to LizzyLoo & Beamer57 for their inspiring reviews and to everyone who left Kudos!

**Loving Ivy**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

 

Ivy stared into the mirror. She wanted to tell him everything, but, there was a part of her that was terrified what he'd think of her.

Leaving wasn't an option, she'd never get past him, and she suspected he'd track her easily, just like those other guys. Where would she be then?

No, she couldn't tell him the whole truth, but her mind agonised. She wanted this, Dwalin was different, and what they had was the most real she'd ever experienced.

Her mind whispered, if she weren't honest with him now, she'd build a relationship on a lie. Down the line, when she was settled with him, did she then want it all to be taken away because he couldn't handle it?

She bent down and picked up the dryer, inspecting it for damage. Placing it on the folded towel, she ran her hands through her hair. She'd wanted to look extra special for him.

She'd been excited, wondering what their day would be like. Would they spend it in bed, getting to know each other more? The thoughts of all the carnal acts he could ply her body with were stimulating, electrifying.

Now, her excitement was ash at her feet, the stimulation had turned into a tornado in her tummy. She'd beg and plead for him to understand, and maybe, just maybe she could convince him that she did something silly, and that she was sorry. Truly sorry.

The plan taking shape she flicked off the bathroom light and walked to what felt like a voluntary execution.

* * *

She didn't say much, he noticed. Nodded at his questions on what food she wanted on her plate, he gave her a little of everything. A medium cooked steak, baked potato lashed with melting butter and some fries he'd ordered on the side.

She picked at it, dipping her fries in the ketchup and swirling them, eating more like a damn bird than a woman who'd been banged near enough into another dimension the night before.

He knew what the problem was, and fuck all if it didn't tie him up in knots. A part of him wanted to forget the conversation, just pack her up and leave, today. He could live with looking over his shoulder. Hell, just being with him and having Thorin as back up would likely send whoever it was scurrying off back under their rock.

He knew though that it wouldn't work like that. He loved Thorin like a brother, and now that he was with Alanna and they were setting up home, trying for their football team. He couldn't bring a shitstorm down on Thorin. He couldn't willingly put in danger those he loved.

Like the shit that went down with the 'King', Dwalin knew, like Thorin had back then, that it had to be sorted before it got out of control. Thorin had nearly lost Alanna, had almost lost his fucking mind when he thought she was dead. Dwalin didn't want to be like that, didn't want to ever lose this woman.

Sucking in a breath, he looked up at her, and hated himself right now.

"You gonna tell me?"

Ivy dropped her chip, pushed her plate away and wiped her fingers with the napkin.

"You have to understand, this… this wasn't my fault."

"Okay." He slid back on the couch putting distance between them. Touching her right now would not do either of them any good.

Ivy met his cold eyes with a brittle stare, eyes shining with tears. He could feel the ground caving away, gravity shooting him down to the fires of hell.

"It happened about three months ago."

He nodded.

"I'm a mobile hairdresser, and well, one of my clients, Amanda, she used to brag about having an affair with some big shot."

Ivy sat back and he could see her reliving the memories. She picked up her mug of coffee and sipped it.

Taking a deep breath she continued, "One day, I went to her, did her hair, and she gave me a hundred dollar tip."

Dwalin's brows flicked up, "A hundred, for doing her hair?"

"I know, it's a lot, and I asked, just in case she got it wrong, but she said she was coming into a shit load of money soon."

He nodded.

"Well, I didn't argue, or pry, just said thanks and left, but as I left this big black car pulls up and this guy," she paused, looked up at him, "Well, he gets out and just walks past me, into her home."

"I don't see how this made you run. Do you know the guy?"

"Not then, I didn't."

"So, what happened?"

"Well, you see, nothing really. Not for a few weeks."

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I'm getting to it okay, I'm just," she waved her hand around, "Setting the scene, alright."

He smirked, he'd missed that fire.

"So, I go to a client and while I'm there, It's Mrs Huffnagle by the way, she likes a set." Dwalin glared.

"So!" she bit out accusingly not happy with being rushed it seemed, "Mrs Huffnagle says about this woman who's vanished. And, I look at the newspaper story."

Dwalin nodded again, he wondered if he nodded enough his head would fall off.

"And..there she is!"

"Who?"

"My client."

"Mrs Huffnagle?"

"No," Ivy slammed her coffee cup down, "Amanda, the one who gave me the huge ass tip."

"She's missing?"

"Yes."

"And this has what to do with your trouble?"

Ivy quietened, fingers fumbling together in her lap. She drew in a few deep breaths like she was meditating or something.

"Her family believe she's been murdered, but there are no signs of foul play."

"But you know different?"

She glanced up at him, her eyes showing that fear he'd managed to keep at bay.

"Her family believe it's her boss,"

They both jumped at the first strains of the 'Starsky & Hutch' theme tune. Dwalin grabbed his phone, it was Thorin. He sent the call to voicemail.

"So, her boss?"

Ivy nodded, eyeing his phone, "Ace?"

"Yes! Yeah, sorry. Yes, her boss, Adrian Boseman."

"What?" Dwalin sat forward, arms resting on his thighs, "As in Boseman Pharmaceuticals?"

She nodded, "I looked him up, Dwalin."

Fuck, he hated that timid, lost little girl tone in her voice.

"And," his voice was just above a whisper.

"It was him, the guy I saw that day, with the big black car."

His phone ripped into life, and Dwalin picked it up, ready to toss the damn thing out the nearest window.

It was Thorin. "Fuck, look let me take this. Then we can focus on what we're gonna do, okay?"

She nodded.

He walked into the other room, and answered it.

"Hey, Bro?"

Dwalin listened to Thorin, it seemed Dwalin was in the right place at the right time. Someone, not a bail jumper, but someone who was in a lot of trouble with the police back home, had been conveniently sighted in this city.

Dwalin nodded, he could track pretty much anyone. Thorin passed on the details, their crime, their description, their name.

Dwalin froze!

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** I'm slapping big warnings on this chapter that some content could be considered triggering. Reader caution is advised.
> 
> Shoutouts to: Lovely_Little_Rage_Heart, The lovely chrisdurin, LizzyLoo and Beamer57.  
> Thank you all for your amazing reviews.

* * *

 

Ivy waited for him to come back from the bedroom, all she had heard was mumbling, then silence.

Finally, the door opened, and Dwalin stalked back in, sat down and centred his laser beam eyes on her.

"So, you saw this Boseman guy at the home of a woman who disappeared, and now suspected of being murdered. Did you go to the police?"

She couldn't figure it, there was nothing in his body language or his tone, but something had changed with Dwalin. Likely the chat with his boss didn't go well.

"No, I can't prove any of this."

"So, why are you running?"

"Well, because he's after me."

"Who, Boseman?"

"Yes!"

"Those were his men, last night?"

"Yes!" she stood up, "What, you think I created those men last night from toilet rolls and sellotape?"

He laughed icily, "Oh, they were real alright, Ace."

"And, in case your thinking it. No, I didn't fucking hire them to attack me."

He nodded.

"Why are you so cold?" Ivy sat down, looking at him.

"Ace, why are they after you?"

She swallowed, and he closed his eyes hiding blue eyes that looked shattered.

"Dwalin—"

He stood up, looming over her, "Let me tell you why you're running, Ace."

She shrank back into the chair, watched the enraged man standing above her. His words registered. Oh, shit, he knew.

"The reason your running, Ivy Walker, is that you tried to blackmail the CEO of Boseman Pharmaceuticals."

She shook her head, "I can explain, I swear."

"Explain?" Dwalin grabbed at his head, "Fuck Ivy, there's an arrest warrant out on you."

She shot out of her chair, "He's lying."

"You didn't blackmail him?" Dwalin stood back, his whole body tensed up. "Tell me the truth, Ivy."

She licked her lips, "Let me explain."

"Did you blackmail him. Yes or fucking no?"

Something tickled her cheek, she reached up wiping it away, surprised to find wetness there, she was crying. No one made her cry. She was tough, she never cried, even when her life went to shit.

Wiping her other cheek just yielded the same result, tears, trickling down her cheeks as she watched everything fall away. She'd ruined it all.

"Yes," she replied. Watching him sink into his chair and bow his head.

* * *

He stared at the oatmeal coloured carpet, it was shag pile. Whatever the fuck shag pile was.

He couldn't look anywhere else, though. If he looked up, he'd see a beautiful woman, the one he thought was his future wrapped in his favourite t-shirt, now sniffling in the chair opposite.

He didn't want to look at that tear-stained face, see the guilt in her eyes.

Boseman was a client of Thorin's. They handled a lot of security for them. To hear his best friend tell him, that Boseman had 'fessed up to being blackmailed. It hadn't been good.

The man was thought to be squeaky clean. Married, three kids, the perfect life, always featured in the homely magazines. People Magazine had recently done a spread on him.

Dwalin had even protected him. Spoken to the guy, liked him. His wife was attractive, intelligent, funny, and they loved their kids. No. They lived for their kids. They donated millions to charities.

Thorin had told him that Boseman was being blackmailed by Ivy Walker, a woman Boseman claimed had been stalking him, ever since he slipped one night and slept with her.

He felt the world's biggest fool again. Taken in by a pretty face and desperate eyes.

He shook his head, he knew he could lie, let her go, tell Thorin he couldn't find her. A part of him wanted to, maybe they could come to some arrangement where he could still see her.

Maybe, if he begged hard enough, promised all kinds of shit, Thorin could make this go away. Make Boseman see sense, get the charges against her dropped.

He wrapped his hands around his head, yanking at his hair. Hands grabbed at him.

"Dwalin, please, I'm sorry." She was begging him.

He lifted his head, shoving her hands away, "What the fuck do you want me to do?"

She stayed knelt on the floor, looking up at him with water-logged eyes and pale face. Still, he thought she was beautiful, and he was willing to fuck over his life for her.

Anger, intense, consuming rushed him. His vision popped with black spots and blood shuttled through his ears like howling wind.

He lent down and grabbed her arm hauling her up, "Why did you do it?"

Why he asked, he didn't know because he couldn't listen to her as she tried to yank her arm back. He didn't care what she said now. It ate at him that she'd fucked Boseman, to begin with. Had heaped insult by stalking him, and nailed his ass to the floor by blackmailing the guy.

She'd used him, spat him out, then tried to claim compensation.

And now she was doing it all over again.

"You on the pill?" he moved closer, watching her shrivel away, and he tightened his grip.

"Yes." She screamed the word in his face.

Good, at least there wouldn't be any accidents, not that he'd cared about that last night. He stared at her, tears dripping down her face, running down her neck into the collar of his tee. He grabbed at it, almost ripped it as he pulled it off her.

He looked at her naked body, and it was too much for him. He'd worshipped her last night, gave her everything he was because he wanted to be with her. Last night they were perfect together, bodies fitting as though made for one another.

Now, he knew he couldn't let her go. She'd go on and do this to some other dumb fuck. He was having a lucky escape, and Boseman had owned up to his mistake. The next guy, he might keep quiet, or, he'd wrap his hands around her pretty little throat.

He hated it, but he would take her back. There was just one thing he had to do before that.

He took off towards the bedroom, dragging her. She cried, smacked at him, dug her heels and then tried to sit down. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her through the door, grabbing her bodily and throwing her onto the bed.

"You can't go." He cautioned. "I can't let you go."

She got to her knees, "Dwalin listen to me, I can explain. He's lying."

"How many times?" he stalked to the bed, unsnapping his jeans and she froze.

"Dwalin, I'm all for angry sex, but this isn't a good idea right now."

"Oh, this is happening." He promised, "I'm gonna make you come hard and fast, and then I'm gonna fuck you harder."

She looked away trying to hide the heat in her eyes. He should have known she'd want this.

If he didn't want her one more time so fucking badly, he'd deny her just to hurt her. Cause her pain that would only ever be a sliver of the agony she was causing him.

He pushed her down, covering her body. She snarled at him, and then their lips attacked one another, no gentle kisses this time. They bit and hissed, scratched and clawed.

She pushed his jeans down, and he didn't bother checking she was ready. He slammed into her, she arched beneath him, back bowing as she took his length. She wasn't quite ready, but no doubt she was probably used to it.

His finger found her clit, and he rubbed, hard and fast as he promised. She lit up under him, her hands stroking him, her moans goading him. He didn't move, feeling her tighten around him. He put no effort into it and when she came it was nothing like he'd brought out of her last night.

She was still spasming around his cock when he began pounding into her. Pulled her hands away and trapped them in his beside her head.

He could see in her eyes that bore into him she wasn't satisfied. Her hips started slamming against his, she wasn't waiting for him to get her off again, she'd take her pleasure, and he couldn't give a fuck, just surged on, thinking about his pleasure.

He could hear his phone ringing in the lounge, he ignored it, drilling into her harder, faster, wanting some other reaction from her.

What that reaction was, he didn't know. All he knew is that he'd let her in, and she was destroying him.

"Dwalin," she cried his name, her big hazel eyes and sooty lashes urging him to gentle his strokes.

He moved his head, looked up at the headboard, ignored her. Just fucked her, used her, until finally, he came.

It was the most repugnant climax he'd ever had. Emptying into her, feeling like a fucking creep.

"I'm not there," she growled. He slipped his hand between there bodies. Slicked his finger over her clit, "Tell me," he whispered to her as she bucked against him. "Did Boseman fuck you like that, or was it like last night?"

She gasped, body straining taut as her climax slipped out of reach. She stared at him, she looked shattered, and finally, he got some pleasure.

"I told you the truth about what happened. I've never had sex with him."

He pulled off, fastened his jeans staring down at her, "Just so you know, you're wanted on extortion and harassment charges. I'm taking you in."

He turned away from her, listened to her roll over in the bed. As he closed the door, he heard her harsh sobs.

Walking to the couches and chairs, he located his phone. Thorin had called again, and right now, he couldn't speak to him, but knew that it had to be done.

Redialing, he waited for an answer.

"Dwalin, thank you for calling me back. We have a problem."

Dwalin huffed out a mirthless chuckle, Thorin thought he had a problem.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, what is?"

"Dwalin…you sound…"

"What, tired, maybe I am Thorin, tired of all this shit you give me. So, what's your fucking problem?"

Silence, he wasn't sure if Thorin would explode, in which case they'd argue, and that would be that. Or Thorin could go all deep and growly, in which case it meant Thorin would kick his ass when he got back.

Maybe deep and growly Thorin is what he needed right now to get his head on straight.

"I know I've sent you there for a different case and I'm sorry I've had to change your priorities."

Well, that was new. He absently wondered if Alanna was in the office. Thorin never liked to lose his temper around his pretty wife.

"The Boseman case—"

"It's sorted, I got your blackmailer."

"That's…good, but it may not be as clear-cut as I thought."

Dwalin stared at the closed bedroom door, what the fuck else had she done?

"What is it?" he was so tired, ready to sleep for a week, for forever if he could.

"Nori called, I mentioned the case. Dwalin, Boseman may have lied to me."

Dwalin didn't freeze, this time, he collapsed into the chair and held a hand over his clearly didn't guess his silence meant anything and continued.

"One of Nori's informants in the F.B.I has told him that Boseman is top of a list of suspects in regards to the disappearance and possible murder of a Miss Chapman."

"Amanda?"

Thorin hesitated, clearing his throat, "Dwalin, how do you know her first name is Amanda?"

He sunk his head, hand running over to the back of his head and back, "She told me."

"Miss Walker told you?"

"Yeah,"

"Dwalin, there's a chance Miss Walker may be in danger. "

"Thorin," he begged his voice guttural with emotion, "just tell me what's going on?"

"Are you okay? Dwalin, I'm becoming concerned."

"Just tell me, now?"

Thorin descended into that silence.

"I've fucked up, Bro," Dwalin confessed.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"Not yet," how could he explain. If he could ever explain.

"Miss Chapman was apparently having an affair," Thorin continued. "I'm not sure if she confided in Miss Walker, but it seems Miss Walker has information that could be useful. I've put out feelers in the police, see what the local cops know."

"Fine, anything else."

"If what Nori has said is true, she did try to blackmail Boseman. From what I've found out about her. It would seem that Miss Walker was heavily in debt after an ex-boyfriend stole everything from her, life savings, car, furniture, took out loans in her name, that sort of whacked out shit. She was facing eviction from her apartment, her business wasn't bringing in enough money. It seems she may have been in an impossible situation."

"So, she blackmailed Boseman to get clear and free," Dwalin finished.

"Yes, I'm not entirely sure what I would have done in her position."

No, Dwalin wasn't sure either. Because a little part of him had pride in her for doing such a ballsy, highly stupid, thing.

A man had turned on her and ruined her life. Now, wasn't that proving a theme for her, because, right now, Dwalin had done the same.

"Thorin?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you could ever make such a monumental fuck up that Alanna would never forgive you?"

He could hear pens rattling, Thorin was fidgeting again. Something he did when he was thinking.

"I think that I can and will fuck up, but I believe if I can explain to her the reason, if she will give me that at least, then I can make her understand why I did…whatever it was."

"If she doesn't let you explain?"

"Dwalin, I'm not sure if I'm the right person to ask."

"Just humour me, Bro."

"Fine…if she doesn't let me explain, then I guess it means she doesn't consider me worthy."

"You mean, she doesn't care anymore?"

"Doesn't care, doesn't love, there one and the same when it comes to my wife."

"Thanks, Bro."

"Dwalin, I'm highly concerned."

Dwalin chuckled, Thorin did have a way of speaking.

"Don't worry, I'll protect her, with my life."

"Dwalin, that is not assuring me."

"Bro, I fucked up, and I'll fix it. In the meantime, know that Ivy is safe."

"Ivy?"

Dwalin didn't reply.

"Dwalin, I don't know what you've done, or how you managed it, but I have one question for you?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Is she worth it?"

Dwalin didn't hesitate because the words were ingrained in his soul, "That and more, Bro."

There was nothing, no jokes, no cajoling, just silence, then, "Be safe."

He closed his eyes, heard the beep of a call disconnecting and slid the phone down his face. How was he going to fix this?


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The F-Bomb explodes and Ivy has her revenge! Enjoy!

* * *

 

He creaked open the door, heard nothing. The bed was empty and unmade, he scanned the room, the bathroom door was closed, light peaking out from the bottom.

He sat on the bed and waited.

After about half an hour the lock clicked, and Ivy stepped out, a white bath towel wrapped around her just showered body. Her hair was still dripping as she blotted it with another towel.

She stopped mid-step when she finally caught sight of him. Her look clearly promised she would definitely go for the nose this time.

He swallowed, swallowed again, sure there was something sticking in his throat. He figured it must be the ball of guilt that had risen from his gut.

He wiped his hand over his goatee, it was patchy, needed some beard maintenance. Fuck, he was trying to derail in his mind what he was pretty sure was coming.

"I know," he stopped and cleared his throat, "I get that I don't deserve you hearing me out."

She didn't respond.

He looked away, staring at the wall, and the bright, tacky picture of two people on a sandy beach flying a kite.

"I'm not going to apologise, because that isn't good enough."

Silence.

"What I did," he pointed to the bed, "was wrong, and if you want to press charges, I won't dispute them."

He really wished she'd say something. Anything.

"Thorin's investigating Boseman. I know why you did what you did. It doesn't make it right, but I understand, if that's…er…if that's any consolation." Could he possibly fuck this up anymore?

He finally rested his eyes on her, she was stood near the door. Towel hanging limp in her hand, hair dripping over her shoulders, staring at the floor.

"I should have let you explain. I should have…"

"What?" she spoke blandly, like everything had been sucked out of her. Her face angled to the floor, towel now wringing between her hands, and he got the distinct impression she wished it was his neck, it was the only sign of life she gave him.

"What?" she asked again, "What should you have done? Believed in me. Given me five fucking minutes of your time? Not got angry with me."

She was crying again, and he really wanted to take her in his arms and let her give him all her pain. He'd take it willingly.

"I let you in, after everything, I let you in, and you, you're no better than all the rest. Fucking me over when it suits you."

"No," he stood, and she took a cautious step back towards the bathroom. "No, please, Darling."

"No." She exploded at last, "no, you don't get to call me that. Not now, not ever."

Her voice returned to that blank quiet tone, "I would like you to pass my thanks to your boss. As for you, I don't care what you have to say. I'm not pressing charges, I can't say it was the best sex, but it wasn't the worst. At least we both got to come, right."

He wilted, inside his heart was breaking, and he knew it was his fault.

"As for me. I'd very much like if you could call me a taxi. I'm going back to my motel, and I'd appreciate it, if you stay the fuck away from me."

"You can't go back."

Ivy glared, it was the most brutal, unforgiving, hateful, look he'd received from her.

He sucked in his breath, he'd lost her, but he wasn't going to stop protecting her.

"I know you're angry at me, but Boseman's bad guys are still out there. Until we have proof that girl is dead, you'll always be in danger."

"I don't care," she snapped, "It's not like I'm going to testify against him, I'm not a threat, and I'll let him know."

"Really," his anger spiked at even thinking of Boseman being near her, "You'll what, Ivy? Walk up to him, have a friendly chat over a glass of wine? You tried to fucking blackmail him."

"Fuck you. I don't have to listen to this, I'm leaving."

"The fuck you are." He was up and in her space, "I don't give a shit how much you hate me, Ivy. You're not going near him, and you're not leaving here. Until this is resolved, I will protect you. I will fucking die for you if I have to."

She stopped, her chest heaving under that stark white towel. Her face blanched, and he stepped closer to her, "He's murdered one woman, I'm not going to let him do it twice. After he's caught, after you testify, you'll be free."

It was like automatic pilot as she leant into him, then caught herself and sprung back.

"I don't love you," she snarled, and he watched that lie shadow her eyes.

Something unfurled inside him his mind was on repeat, chanting he had a chance, he had to fight the lie she just told.

"You're a fucking liar. You love me, like I love you."

She shook her head stiffly, mouth pursed in angry lines, her eyes landing on everything that wasn't him.

"You're not perfect, Ivy. We've both fucked up here. Don't throw this away because of my stupidity. Give me a lifetime to make it up to you?"

"You're the only one who fucked up here." She tried to dart around him, but he grabbed her, keeping his hold gentle.

She hauled off and slapped him, her nails catching his jaw, he ignored the sting, bringing her closer.

"You blackmailed Boseman, that's on you, Ivy," She near hissed at him.

"You ignored the fact that a woman could be dead. A woman who has a family, a mother and a father who love her. You discarded her for the mighty fucking dollar, so don't act all fucking righteous with me now," he'd ended up shouting at her.

If he let go now, she'd run, she wouldn't get far, but chasing her around the penthouse, or the hotel was not on his agenda today.

"We both fucked up, Ivy. I've forgiven you, you wanna hang on to your anger, your vengeance, my pleasure. But, I'm not letting you go so you can walk out of here and get kidnapped or worse."

"Fuck you, you fucked up fuckwad," her voice steamed like a boiling kettle.

He shook his head, "You don't know when to quit with that mouth of yours."

Her hand swung up, and he stopped her cold, "I gave you one free hit," he didn't squeeze her wrist just held it, his thumb stroking the delicate bones.

"You have to say my name first if you want another go."

"Dwalin," she put on a saccharine sweet voice, "May I beat the living shit out of you, please," she batted those sooty lashes at him.

"That's not my name."

Her eyes squinted, the hazel firing up to amber, Christ she was beautiful like this.

"I don't care what your name is, as far as I'm concerned it's Mr Eat-Shit-And-Die."

"Gage," he murmured his secret giving her the only thing he could give that mattered to him. Well, apart from slashing open his chest and literally handing her his beating heart.

Ivy bristled, her hand fisting, knuckles whitening from the force, "Get out."

"I'm not leaving us like this."

"There is no fucking us!" she screamed in his face, yanking against his hold.

"Is there nothing I can do?" he shook his head, out of ideas. Thorin's words came back to bite him, he should never have asked that damn question.

Ivy's eyes flicked past him, settling on something. He looked over his shoulder at the messy bed.

"Tell me what to do?" he released her stepping back. Waited and hoped.

Her eyes flicked from him to that bed, back again. Take it, his eyes begged, take your wrath out on me.

She shook her head, her entire body withering as she gave up, "Please, just go." She pointed to the door.

"I promised you," Dwalin pulled off his tee, "I said you could use me," he unsnapped his jeans, lowered the zipper, let his jeans fall low on his hips. "This isn't wrong."

She chuckled at him, it was empty and brittle, "Fuck you over, to make myself feel better. Is that what this is about?"

"No," his jeans slipped lower on his hips with every move, and he watched her eyes dart down continuously.

"This is about leaching that poison, the one that infected you when that ex of yours put you in this situation."

There it was, the anger she'd been hiding, the fear that had grown along side it. She scowled unattractively. Her eyes dimmed, that remembered terror sending a shudder through her body. It wasn't just Boseman's bad guys that put it there.

"Tell me?" he commanded.

Her chin wobbled, "Loan sharks," she cracked open, "Fucking loan sharks came to my door. Threatening me. Letters from banks, so many fucking banks, and lenders. All demanding money. He forged my fucking signature, and when he couldn't, his fucking girlfriend pretended to be me. I read those letters, listened to those threats and cried sitting on a hard wooden floor because he even stole my fucking carpets and chairs." The agony in her voice vibrated through him.

He hadn't seen that shit coming, the guy was a fucking ass, and when this shit with Boseman was over, Dwalin was going hunting.

"That's a lot of hurt, fear, and anger in there, Ivy."

"I saved hard for those carpets, I loved them."

Carpets? The shit women thought about, he'd never understand. But he did know that anger, that rage, that sheer blinding fright. She would've experienced that terror when some whale of a man turned up on her doorstep. Likely threatening to break her legs, or worse telling her how she could pay it off on her back. How fucking scared she must have been, alone, no one to lean on. He hoped to Christ she didn't try to pay it off that last way.

"What did you do?" He had to know, even if it cut him to the bone.

"I worked harder, every fucking dollar taken from me. I went to the police, they didn't do anything, I had no proof. It was my signature. We broke up, all the fucking excuses they used. When really they were just thinking I was the jealous Ex trying to get revenge."

"It burned, right?"

"Yes, it fucking burned," she screamed at him. "I'm a good person, I've never done anything wrong. I loved him, worshipped him, and he did this."

"How did he get in, Ivy," she wasn't paying attention, lost in her frenzy, he took a step closer each time she spoke.

"He said I was special, adorable," she spat the word, "he said I was his one."

Muted sunlight could barely penetrate through the closeness of their bodies as he stood there and watched those emotions pour out. She was lost to that past, now he'd bring her back to the present and show her what the future could be like for her.

"Did he love you?"

She shook her head, "Now, when it goes over and over in my mind, driving me crazy," he had his answer for what made her come to the bar last night. "I think of everything he used to say, he never said love, I was cute, sweet, his fucking one."

"His one what?"

She flipped her head up, that gorgeous hair fluttering against his chest, those amber eyes sparking with gold, "His one fucking cash-cow, his one stupid bitch that believed everything."

"You wanted to make someone pay, get clear and free, get a chair to sit on, a carpet to walk on."

She nodded, "Yes, yes to fucking all of it."

"What did you do?"

"I know it was wrong," her voice trembled, her guilt over her foolish choice echoed in her words, "but the things they said they'd do to me. I was out of my mind, visiting clients who had perfect fucking lives, who were going to come into a lot of money and could tip me a hundred dollars and it didn't make a difference to them."

The poison was spilling out of her, he could smell it in the air, that toxic shit that bastard had infused her with flowing out of her.

"I was scared, I was so fucking furious with him, with everyone, I just wanted him to pay, and if he couldn't then someone else had to."

Dwalin nodded, "So make someone pay, Ace?"

She did, she grabbed at his shoulders, "On your fucking knees."

He knew what she wanted, needed, he fell to his knees, parted that towel. She hooked her leg over his shoulder, and he dived into her core.

He wasn't gentle, he bit and sucked, fucked her with his tongue and fingers and drank her down as she came, shrieking her rage.

He yanked his jeans down and sat back on his legs, exposing his rigid cock, red and riled like her.

"Ride me, Ivy."

She collapsed on top of him, straddling him, plunging herself down. He leant back on his hands, and she took control.

She fucked him, buried him in her to the root, ground down on him, sliding her clit over him, taking what she needed.

Her hands clawed at his shoulders, clinging on, using him to leverage her body. Those sharp nails digging into him, marking him, a sign that read 'Personal Possession of Ivy Walker.'

She stopped, sucking in breath in harsh swallows, then lunged forward and sank her teeth into his throat. She bit and sucked, high up on his neck. She was giving him a fucking hickey. A part of him should have been angry at the teenage bullshit, but he was hers and she wanted it known. So he'd wear her marks liking fucking medals. A testament to the war he was fighting for her heart.

She nodded in approval at her handiwork, leered liked a lioness would at her captured prey and snapped her hips back into her frenzied rhythm.

The tickle at the bottom of his spine was his warning, "Shit, I'm gonna come."

"Not yet. Hold on." She gasped, her hands came up behind his head, grabbing handfuls of hair.

"I can't," he growled, "It ain't like that for men."

"Just," she panted, "Hold on."

"It don't work like that," shit, he was gonna blow his head off when he came.

"Don't," she tossed her head, "Fuck!"

Reaching forward with one hand, he slipped it between them and every time she hit bottom he tapped her clit, helping her along.

She tightened around him, her muscles strangling his dick. He was actually worried he wouldn't be able to come, her hold on him too tight. Maybe it would cause a backlash and his head really would blow off.

Fucked to death by his woman seemed a good way to die.

"I'm there," she screamed, arching back.

The rippling muscles inside her core spurred him on, and he joined her cry with his growl. He exploded in her like a Gatling gun.

He was still coming as she slumped over him, her hair a tangled damp mop, her skin sticking to him. He leant up and grabbed her hips, pulling her down hard on him, making sure she took all of him inside her.

His vision was blurry, "I think what they say about sex making you blind is true," he rumbled against her head. Spitting out bits of her hair that he kept sucking in with every breath.

She started to pull away, and he wrapped her in his arms, "No, don't move yet."

"We shouldn't have done this." He was going to fill that fucking emptiness inside her.

"Yes, we should, we needed it, you needed it, Darling."

She stiffened at his words. He pulled her in tighter.

"I'm so fucking sorry." He pressed a kiss to her head, "We gotta forgive each other, and ourselves, okay?"

"You hurt me."

"I know. I was hurting too."

"Is this what you want? Fights, angry sex, pain? It doesn't seem a good advertisement for a relationship."

"We start afresh, Ace. There's no more secrets and lies between us."

Her fingers crept up his chest, resting over his heart, "Gage."

"Hmm?" he looked down at her. She was watching her fingers, tapping them in time with his heartbeat.

"I…just wanted to say your name. See what it felt like in my mouth."

"You know what it feels like, Ace."

"I do?"

He couldn't help tipping her head back, looking into hazel eyes that were still carrying open wounds. Lowering his head, he whispered, "It sounds like this…"

His lips slid over hers, tongue brushing her, carefully slipping into her mouth. He rolled his tongue over hers, an appreciative rumble sounding in his chest.

Slowly her hands crept up, over his shoulders, behind his neck and she latched on, throwing herself into his kiss.

It wasn't fixed. But this was a first step in the right direction.


	9. Chapter 9

She felt liked cracked glass, the slightest knock and she'd shatter. Curled up on the bed with Dwalin - no Gage - behind her. His fingers stroked a pattern on her back and although it was annoying, she didn't want him to stop. She couldn't be without human contact right now.

He knew everything about her. What his boss had found out, what she'd told him. He would be good at interrogation, she guessed. He'd gotten so much out of her, more than she'd ever breathed to anyone else, even friends.

"When this is over, I'm finding him," he grumbled behind her. She didn't need psychic abilities to know who he meant. There was that spiteful part that wanted him to destroy that apocalyptic fuckwad she'd been in love with.

The larger part just wanted all of this to be over, to never be spoke of again. Brushed aside. Forgotten. Whatever it took to get her life back on track.

Though exactly where that life was she didn't know.

"I can't go back home," she murmured, brushing her hair back behind an ear.

"I know," his hand glided over her shoulders, down her back, across the curve of her bottom. She smiled, he was drawing an I, for Ivy, she guessed.

"They'll find me, and, I don't know what to do."

"The sharks?"

She nodded, her face rumpling the cotton pillowcase. Lifting her head, she smoothed it over, it was impossibly soft and smelt so clean.

"I'll fix it." Gage whispered against her skin. "Give me a chance, and I'll fix everything."

"I want a life."

"I know, you'll have one."

"You won't be there, you'll be tracking bad guys."

Silence greeted her and she closed her eyes, feeling so near to breaking apart.

"Tell me what you want?"

She shook her head, it didn't matter.

"Ivy?"

She sat up, staring at the window, the sun was dipping behind tall buildings, the dusk creeping across the room. She stared at the expensive room. She'd never in her life been able to afford a five star hotel. Had dreamt of it though, as a honeymoon destination in Hawaii, or maybe Las Vegas. It's what her life savings had been for.

Now, she had nothing, and Gage as sweet as he was wouldn't be there. She wouldn't have that life she craved.

A sigh behind her, "You know why I'm a bounty hunter?"

She didn't reply, just turned her head a little, listening.

"Got no one to go home to."

She half-turned, not committing herself to actually looking at him, but unable to not listen.

"I earn an obscene amount of money, it sits in a bank account, collecting interest. My life as a marine, then special forces, meant I could buy a huge apartment before the area became fashionable and prices skyrocketed."

"And…"

He chuckled, "That got your attention huh?"

She turned back to facing the window, "I'm not some money-grabbing bitch."

He moved quick and she was yanked on to her back, him straddling her.

"That was fucking rude of me, I'm sorry. I didn't think."

She didn't meet his eyes, knew he was staring at her, waiting for a reaction she wasn't going to give him. She didn't have the energy. She felt well fucked and well, fucked.

He grabbed her under the arms and hauled her across the bed so he could lay beside her. She was still in her towel. He'd offered her the Stones tee earlier, but that had caused a mild meltdown in her.

Seeing his eyes widening, standing there with that damn tee, looking completely lost at her reaction. He'd hidden it behind his back and actually shuffled his feet like a naughty schoolboy.

It had sent her into fits of manic laughter and panicked sobbing both vying for prominence and that just left her choking and turning red.

"There's this little place, underneath my apartment." Gage spoke against her shoulder lips rubbing her skin, "It's for rent, used to be some beauty salon."

She spotted a mark on the ceiling, so the room wasn't perfect after all. She focused on it as he continued talking.

"Used to be busy all the time, the owner had a serious gambling problem though, went bust."

His silence meant she had to acknowledge she was listening, "Okay."

He nodded, "If someone reopened it, they'd make a fortune."

She shook her head, "It would likely take a fortune to reopen it."

He shrugged, nudging into her, rocking her body. "But, if someone had a shit load of money, they could hire someone to do all that."

"Yeah, I suppose," she was forcing down her interest, doggedly keeping her face blank.

"See, if I had a business and a woman to come home to, I'd take up my boss' offer of just doing security. Means I wouldn't be hauling ass all over the country."

Inside Ivy, a little girl with dark russet pigtails was bouncing up and down.

"What are you saying?" she had to know, he had to spell it out for her.

"I'm fucking this up, that's what I'm saying." He rolled to his back one arm over his eyes.

"Gage, just, stop with the theoretical shit. I can't fucking think straight."

He rolled back, one hand holding his head up, the other tracing her collar bones.

"I got no reason to stay home because the woman I'm pretty sure I'm in love with, isn't there. Yet."

Her eyes snapped to his, indigo meeting amber.

"I'm saying, come home with me. I'll rent the damn beauty shop, I'll employ you as manager, get it up and running, do whatever the fuck you want with it during the day. The evenings, you're home, with me, we'll cook together, eat together, watch shit reality tv together, then sleep together."

"Anything else," that smile was hard to keep back, it wanted to take over her whole face.

"Yeah, actually there is. We get married in Vegas, if you want kids that's fine, if you don't want kids that's fine too, but were having a dog either way."

She couldn't stop the smile, she really tried to, it slipped on and off her lips, until finally her muscles gave way and it took over her whole face.

Gage scowled, "Took you long enough to get it."

"Fuck you, Fuckwad."

"And there's that mouth again."

"You love my mouth!"

"Wouldn't know, you've never gone down on me."

Her mouth opened wide in shock and she slapped his arm, "Gage!" she shrieked at him, "You don't say that to your future wife."

Her mouth clamped shut, eyes bulging, "Shit, did I just say that?"

He shook his head, "Don't go having another breakdown on me. I'm not marrying you yet."

She scowled, "And don't look at me like that, you remind me of my grandmother," he smirked, "She grew a beard better than me."

She couldn't help the chuckle that ripped free, rolling onto him, throwing her arms around him and just laughing.

She felt clean and free and she told him.

He grinned at her, "Clean and free, Darling."

She nodded, still fragile, but knowing it was okay, she could be like that because Gage was there to put her back together.

"Gage, I..erm."

He placed a finger over her lips, "I don't want you saying it because I did. When it's right, you'll say it, but until then, Ace. I already know."

She didn't know what she would do with this good-looking man beside her.

Actually, scratch that, she did.

She slipped down, and showed Gage Dwalin, exactly how much he loved her mouth.

**Epilogue**

Ivy was tired, no that didn't describe her. Tired was an ache and weariness. This was every joint throbbing, and her body flagging. She stumbled on the stone step and a strong hand grasped her keeping her upright.

"A little further and it's over," Gage pulled her into his side, arm wrapping around her. He took her weight, without actually looking like he was taking her weight.

She was always impressed when he did little things like that. He winked at her, pulled her in tighter and marched through the throng of people shouting at her.

He didn't stop as he reached the pavement, heading towards the busy street, a black SUV pulled up, the rear door thrown open and he ushered her inside. He helped her buckle up, slammed his door, and tapped on the black glass in front of them.

The car pulled away smoothly into traffic made her stomach turn over. She must have looked pale, as he shoved a bottle of water in her hand, commanding her to drink.

"It's over," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple and wrapping an arm around her. She could only nod as she sank into his chest.

"I hate this," tears leaked out, and his thumb was quick to wipe them away.

"You've done good, Ace."

Another nod, this one far wearier, "I want to sleep."

He cradled her, "You do that, Darling."

She tried, but couldn't. Instead, she rested against her man. He pressed kisses to her head and face, whispered silly things, like what he was going to cook for dinner, and that he needed another trim, his split ends were out of control.

It made her smile, and eased away the tension of the trial.

The car pulled to another smooth stop, and his door opened. He reversed his actions, unbuckling her, sliding her to the door, pulling her out. He kept that arm around her, her face buried in his chest.

She went to thank the driver and was gobsmacked to see Thorin holding the door.

"You think I'd trust anyone else protecting you" Gage commented at her surprised look. Thorin followed them closely, head swinging everywhere scanning the area until they were all in the Oakenshield Securities command centre.

They went straight for Thorin's office, Gage resting her body on the couch, making her lie down and placing a blanket over her.

"You okay?" That was Thorin, and she didn't think that was the best question to ask.

She listened as her man finally blew his top. "The fuck I am, that bastard lawyer of his, he stripped her of everything, Bro, made her look like…"

"It's his job, remember," Thorin interrupted and Ivy rolled over, watching the two men who were like brothers.

"Anyway, it's over and Alanna is harassing me over the finer details of this weekend."

Gage scratched his head, "I don't know, Ivy's organised it all."

She could practically hear Thorin's brows rising into his hairline.

"Dwalin, that's not an excuse, I helped Alanna every step of the way."

"Look, I tried, she nearly ripped my balls off after I screwed up that wedding list."

Thorin chuckled, "You're just afraid of her!"

Ivy smirked, yeah Gage was intimidated like hell when it came to her temper tantrums, especially over the wedding.

"I'm not afraid, it's a tactical retreat that's all."

"A tactical retreat?"

Tactical retreat? Well, Ivy had never heard such bullshit. She couldn't help the huff of laughter.

Both men looked at her, "You should be resting," Gage groused, one finger pointed at her.

Thorin laughed, "It's a bit late to take her in hand now, maybe you should go for another tactical retreat."

Gage scowled.

"Don't do that," Thorin shuddered. "You look like your bearded grandmother."

Ivy busted out laughing.

* * *

 

"Fuck," she collapsed to the bed, her body glowing with sweat. Gage stared at her from his side of the bed, panting. She was a minx in bed, his woman. She'd ridden him damn hard tonight, and he'd made her come far too many times than was likely healthy.

Wearing her out was a priority, she'd fall asleep soon, cocooned in his arms and wouldn't wake until morning. Which was good. Seeing as before he started his nightly routine of fucking her until she passed out, he'd been dealing with her screaming the apartment done with her nightmares.

Boseman had tried everything with his expensive law team to discredit her legally.

Ivy had been forced to take a plea bargain with the DA, over her silly choice to blackmail Boseman.

It was legal bullshit, but, she had to look as squeaky clean as she could. Circumstances had been taken into account with her ex conning her, she got a slap on the wrist, which was damn lucky. He'd been ready to run off in the middle of the night with her if it looked like she'd spend one fucking hour in prison.

Still, her life had been put on parade. Boseman's team had pulled out every dirty little secret, former friends, former boyfriends. Then they'd put that little prick on the stand. Her ex who had run off with everything, leaving her in that damn position that had started this shit.

He was good looking, what you'd expect some con-man to look like. Good with his words, even better with his lies. The fucker could cry on command as well. He'd lied his way through his questioning, and when the prosecution questioned him, he made them look like fucking amateurs.

The DA explained it was a game. Boseman's lawyers were trying to offer reasonable doubt, another reason why Ivy had blackmailed him.

When she took the stand and told her story, her eyes had locked with his, and never deviated.

She admitted that she believed Boseman had murdered Amanda Chapman the day she saw him arriving. Timelines matched from when the woman disappeared, she was credible. Even though he loved her and had a healthy dose of bias, her story was believable.

Then his lawyers had got up and he'd watched his woman be torn to shreds. She ended up sobbing on the stand, they had to take a recess, get her calmed down. Then they put her back up there, and Gage had been warned any shit from him and he'd be kicked out the courtroom.

So he'd sat there listened to the questions and watched her becoming weaker and more fragile.

She did it, though, she got through it, and when they'd finished with her, he'd swept her out of the court and back to safety.

The trial was still ongoing, but Gage hoped the jury would see the truth. A few had wept at Ivy's story, so that was a good sign. But until that verdict came in, Ivy wasn't safe physically or mentally. They had about another week left of the trial.

Which brought him full circle to his thoughts tonight of wearing her out so she could sleep.

Plus, she was stressing over the wedding. He'd floundered there, fucked up their wedding list with some store. She'd been furious, angrier than that night in the hotel many months ago. He'd not taken it personally, well not too much, he knew the strain was getting to her.

He'd be glad to get her in the jet on Friday, flying down with the rest of the team and their girlfriends or wives, marry her on Saturday, and fly off to Hawaii on Sunday. It was perfect, her kind of perfect.

His kind of perfect? His wife would be in another fucking state when the verdict came in.

Though now, she had a new stress worrying if her staff could look after the salon for two weeks. He didn't worry, Poison Ivy's had quite the hip reputation as the place to go for your hair needs. Ivy was damn good at it, always had a waiting list, but soon she'd be cutting back. They'd agreed, he didn't want her working so hard when they were married. Actually, it was more they'd bitched and fought, had lots of angry sex, but he'd stood firm on this until she finally gave in.

Life was good for Gage Dwalin. He had a great job working special security in his home city. He owned a hair salon! His soon-to-be-wife ran it. There was only one thing missing.

Gage clicked his fingers and the cutest Bassett hound in the world trotted over from his basket on stubby legs, long ears sweeping the ground. Of course, he had to get out of bed to lift Bertie into the bed.

He still didn't get how he'd lost the fight on naming the damn dog. He let Bertie find his usual place on the bed, and Gage snuggled up to Ivy, she'd drifted off to sleep already, and he wrapped her tight.

Yep, life was fucking fantastic.

And it was all down to a woman called Ivy!


End file.
